


Walk It Off

by fannishlove, Thatswherethelightgetsin



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Depressed Steve Rogers, M/M, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Feels, Vet Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-13 02:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 59,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19590430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishlove/pseuds/fannishlove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatswherethelightgetsin/pseuds/Thatswherethelightgetsin
Summary: Steve is, somehow, still alive when the fighting finally ends. Again. Which is good, everyone keeps telling him how good it is. And it’s not that he doesn’t agree, not that he didn’t want to make it through the latest round of horror. But, he’s starting to think that while he may not be dead, he’s not really alive either. He’s not sure he ever really was.Bucky is just the guy that lives a few doors down from Steve and occasionally nods at him when they pass in the corridor. That is until a mix up with the mail makes him wonder if he might be more, might be the spark he needs to actually start living. But, predictably things are never that simple and Bucky might be more than he seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is finished and will be posted over the next week. 
> 
> In case you're all wondering, here's the list of the movies that Steve and Bucky are watching: https://www.listchallenges.com/101-movies-you-must-see-before-you-die

“We won.”

Steve’s first thought, when Tony said the words into the almost eerie quiet after the fighting had finally stopped, was _I’m alive_. It wasn’t the thought itself that surprised him. It had been a close-run thing, and no one would have been spared if they’d lost. The stakes were as high as they got: the end of the world. Again. He’d known going in there was every chance he wouldn’t make it out of the fight. He was entirely prepared for it to be his last. What he wasn’t expecting, what made him pause as Natasha pulled him to his feet, was the lack of relief. There was no rush of gratitude or easing of tension.

There was nothing at all.

“Dinner?” Someone asked, as all around him the Avengers gathered themselves and began limping back the way they’d come through rubble and falling dust. There were distant screams and the wail of sirens, but compared to what had gone before, it was almost tranquil. This was normally the moment when he was able to finally breathe freely again, when his body began to uncoil. Only it didn’t come.

He didn’t move, couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do more than wonder at the strange feeling in his chest. It wasn’t new, he knew that much. It was more like noticing that you’d been sitting strangely for hours and that suddenly every bit of you aches. He wasn’t upset that he was alive, he didn’t think. He hadn’t wanted to go down in another blaze of self-sacrificial glory, but he wasn’t pleased he hadn’t either.

The thought should have been alarming, but wasn’t. He didn’t really feel anything at all about it, like he was outside of himself, noting something strange and new, but not precisely scary.

“Thank God,” Tony said, his voice trying to convey normalcy even as it sounded heavy with pain and exhaustion. “Just don’t let Birdman pick where again.”

“Hey!” Clint and Sam yelped in unison, preemptively mock-hurt and preparing a comeback.

“Rogers.” Natasha’s voice was pitched low, not meant to attract attention.

Steve blinked and looked up to meet her eyes. Her face was streaked with dirt and there was a nasty looking gash across her cheek. He’d seen her go down with a shot to her shoulder earlier, and he could see the tell tail signs of her holding back pain as she favoured her left side.

“You with us?” she asked, a frown pulling between her eyebrows.

He shook himself, trying to throw off the strange feeling. “Yeah,” he said and tried to smile. It felt wrong, like his muscles weren’t sure how to do it. He tried to distract her by continuing to speak, “We won.”

Natasha smiled back, just a small twist of her lips. “It’s what we do,” she agreed with a short nod and then paused, her frown deepening and gaze calculating. “You sure you’re with us? You looked-”

“Cap,” Tony called, cutting across whatever she was about to say, “tell these guys: Mexican is the only logical call.”

Steve looked away from Natasha’s still probing gaze, relieved beyond measure for the interruption. The smile was easy enough to force across his face now it was directed elsewhere. “Tapas, surely,” he said, allowing Bruce’s crow of pleasure to draw any remaining attention away from him.

He followed slowly behind the others, an arm wrapped protectively around his sore ribs, and tried not to think about his realisation. It felt like something dark and yawning had suddenly opened inside of him. He didn’t want to look at it, even acknowledging it seemed dangerous, terrifying even. He pushed it away and followed behind his team.

***

“Sam,” Steve sighed, running a hand over his face and trying not to sound as irritated as he felt, “come on. Not this again.”

“You’re not okay.” Sam folded his arms over his chest, his gaze hard and mouth pressed into a thin line. He stood tall, feet planted firmly, an immovable force between Steve and his exit out of the building. Not that Steve couldn’t move him if really wanted to, but Sam seemed to know he wouldn’t. That didn’t stop Steve feeling trapped in the small, tight corridor, though. His skin felt too tight suddenly, and his irritation spiked hot just under the surface.

He’d known going for a run with Sam had been a bad idea. He’d almost cancelled but had suspected that Sam would just turn up anyway or that it would confirm any suspicions Sam was harbouring about his state of wellbeing. Besides, it had been a couple of weeks since they’d seen each other, and it might have started to look like Steve was avoiding him. And he wasn’t, it was just that his appetite for company had dwindled. He preferred being alone; he liked the quiet and being around other people had started to make him snappish and then quickly exhausted. He wasn’t sure if that was a new development, he’d never had a lot of friends growing up and then during the war there was so much to think about that he never considered being alone a real option.

Either way, he didn’t want Sam to think something was wrong, or that he’d done something to annoy him. So, he’d agreed to go for a run against his better judgement. It almost seemed like it would be fine, too, until Sam had brought up a conversation he’d attempted with Steve at least three times since the last near-end-of-the-world-fight. Perhaps, more accurately, it was just a continuation of a conversation he’d been trying to have since the very first time they’d met. Thankfully HYDRA, and then a series of ever-worse fights, had mostly been useful distractions, but now there was nothing and Sam was increasingly insistent that Steve talk to him.

He tried to keep his face neutral as he stared back at Sam. He didn’t want to fight with him. He just wanted to go for a run and come home. He want Sam’s well meant sympathy and the last thing he needed was to be prodded. He’d had enough of people poking at him to unearth his various ailments to last a lifetime.

“You’ve been off since Barcelona,” Sam finished, his jaw set in defiance.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, despite his good intentions to keep an even temper. His irritation was irrational, he knew that. But he hated even the merest insinuation that he was anything other than fully functional. It was a layover from before the serum when he, and everyone else, knew that he wasn’t fine and never would be. The knee-jerk irritation was hard to shake. Besides, then (like now), it was pointless talking about it. The serum had just allowed him to switch one set of problems for another. But it wasn’t like the outcome wasn’t the same. When he turned the thoughts over and over at night, while he failed to sleep, he came to the same conclusion every time. There was nothing more he could do about this feeling, this growing sense of not-rightness that had settled inside of him, than he could have done about his bum heart before the war. There was no point in talking about it, even if he had the words for it.

“Steve,” Sam said, clearly taking a moment to collect himself and pull back his own annoyance. “I know you, whatever’s going on with you, you can talk to me, okay?”

“There’s nothing to say,” Steve said, his voice louder than he expected. He glared, his head whipping around as a door to one of the apartments opened and a man appeared at the end of the corridor.

“You know I ain’t gonna buy that, man,” Sam said, eyes only flicking over Steve’s shoulder and then back to his face. “I can’t.”

“Can we not,” he started, as the man began walking towards them, “do this here?”

Steve thought he’d seen the newcomer around the building, chatting with the other residents. He suspected that he was being rude by never introducing himself, but he never seemed to have the energy to do it. He was probably around Steve’s actual, non-ice-years, age. Perhaps at another time he would have struck up conversation with him, talked about the latest game, the weather, even politics. But, there was no point in that now. People reacted strangely with him, either awe-struck or vaguely uncomfortable, like he was bringing trouble with him. Which, to be fair, he usually was. It was easier not to bother.

They stopped talking as the man came closer. He, as usual, made no move to try and engage Steve, instead nodding with a small smile as he passed. Steve caught his grey-blue eyes and hint of stubble under his baseball cap, before he was gone.

“Sorry,” Sam said, voice lowered, once the man had left. “I didn’t mean to ambush you, but you keep ditching me after runs and I’m worried.”

Steve bit back his first four or five responses, clenching his jaw tightly instead. “I appreciate your concern, Sam, but I’m really fine.”

He half expected Sam to keep pushing but instead he deflated. “Okay, you’re not going to talk, I get it.” He dropped his arms and balled his hands into fists for a moment before continuing. “You don’t have to, but I want you to know that I… I’m here if you ever change your mind. Whatever’s going on, I promise it won’t be…” He frowned, clearly searching for the right combination of words. “I’ll just listen, I’m not here to judge, I’m not trying to fix anything-”

“Because there’s nothing to fix,” Steve gritted out. Why wouldn’t Sam drop it? How badly was he coming off that Sam felt the need to stage an intervention? “Look, I don’t know what’s got you thinking I need help, but I-”

“I never said you needed help, Steve,” Sam cut in. “But, listen, you don’t… It’s been months since Barcelona and you’ve basically dropped off the face of the Earth. Whenever someone tries to see you, you’re never around and I just…” He sighed again. “We’re worried.”

Steve should feel something about that. Guilt, at the very least. He hated worrying people, he’d spent most of his life with those he loved scared for him or being inconvenienced by him in some way. He hated it. But now, he realised, he didn’t feel anything. Even the brief spark of annoyance was gone, replaced with a sort of bone-weariness that made him want to lie down.

“Thanks, Sam, but there’s nothing for you to worry about. I guess,” he forced himself to say, knowing that the right thing to do was offer some comfort, “after everything with AIM and HYDRA, I just needed a break.”

Sam nodded, like he understood, like this was something he had suspected. The thought was strange, Steve hadn’t actually thought anything of the sort, but maybe Sam was just grateful for any explanation. “That’s fine,” Sam said, his voice lower now, clearly aiming for soothing. “You don’t owe us anything; maybe it’s time for a break.”

Steve had no idea how to respond to that so he dropped his head and shrugged. “I guess.”

“You remember when you first came to the VA back in DC?” Sam asked, his voice gaining back some of the steel from earlier in the conversation.

It made Steve look back up at him, a frown forming on his face. “Sure.”

“You remember what I asked you?”

There it was. The trap Sam had been laying since the start of the conversation. Of course Steve had no response. Sam knew he didn’t. What made him happy? He had no idea. Lately, he wasn’t sure if he was even capable of being happy. The emotion was more alien than fighting extra-terrestrials had ever been. It had never mattered much. There was no time, no money, no future, for him to contemplate what frills might be required beyond the desire to keep breathing.

“Sam…” he started, his voice tinged with annoyance, despite trying to tamp it back down.

“I’m just asking,” Sam said, hands out in a placating gesture. “You don’t have to answer, but you said you were working on it, and I know that plan got kinda derailed there. But, there’s time now, Steve, and you… You deserve to have an answer. So, all I’m asking is that you… I dunno, that you try at least. Just, think about it. And if you need anything, you know I’ve got your back.”

“Okay,” he said, because what else was there to say? What sort of person could refuse a request like that? It sounded simple. Sam clearly didn’t think it was too much to ask, and it would have felt ridiculous to say anything else. “I guess I’ll try then.” The words sounded hollow and strained, so he added a small smile to soften them.

Sam just grinned, all easy charm and genuine affection. “Don’t say it like I asked you to fight against HYDRA without the shield,” he said. “Just try painting or something. You liked that before, right?”

“Sure,” Steve said, hoping his own smile looked somewhat normal, “sounds good.”

It looked for a moment like Sam wanted to say something else, but in the end he just let out a slow breath. “Alright, that’s enough feelings talk for one day, you taking me on this run, old man, or what?”

“Finally,” Steve agreed, finding it easier to smile now the conversation was over. “It’s like you were putting off me lapping you four or five times or something.”

“Funny,” Sam said, “perhaps you should try stand up instead of painting.”

Steve didn’t answer, just dodged by him at a jog and headed out the door, leaving Sam to squawk indignantly and follow after him.

***

Steve had no intention of thinking about what Sam had said. He’d very firmly pushed all thoughts of anything remotely related to the topic down as far as they would go. Instead, he focused on the routine he’d carved out for himself: get up, go for a run, breakfast, training, reading, chores, lunch, attempt something from his endless list of culture to catch up on, then a final run before bed. He told himself the training was important, he couldn’t let himself slip because if his life had taught him anything, it was that the end of the world was probably only a few months away and he needed to be ready.

He missed having the other Avengers to train with sometimes. Those few months of training together as a team had felt rewarding, more so than anything since the war. But it was over now, and there was no point in hoping that they’d all magically change their minds and want to go back. It was an experiment, a failed one, and he had to accept that and move on. He knew that, even as he felt a pang as he started his solo runs through the city.

What, exactly, he was moving on to, he wasn’t sure. He felt like he was just waiting for someone to lose their mind and try to end the world again. While it was a good bet that that would happen with alarming regularity, it still left periods of downtime where Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. S.H.I.E.L.D, for all that it turned out to be full of Nazis, had at least kept him busy. Coulson had half-heartedly reached out to Steve a few months after Project Insight to ask if he wanted to be part of the new S.H.I.E.L.D., but didn’t seem surprised when Steve turned him down flat.

That left Steve with not much to fill his time. He knew, objectively, that there were things other than fighting that he could try. But nothing seemed to hold his attention for more than five minutes. He’d tried reading. Had bought new sketch pads and pencils. He’d even, out of sheer desperation, tried a dance a class. But the books and empty pads now lay about his apartment with a vaguely mocking air, and Steve just… didn’t have the will to pick them up.

It took him a long moment, as he sat one morning staring at them and trying to summon the desire to pick one up, to realise that his phone was ringing.

“Rogers,” he said, without bothering to check who was calling. It didn’t matter, any distraction was welcome and very few people had this number to begin with.

“Hello stranger.” Natasha always sounded amused, but Steve was starting to be able to pull apart the nuances in her amusement. He recognised this one. It, coupled with his implied absence, meant she wanted a favour. That was different to her telling him that there was a mission, there was obviously some doubt in her mind that he’d say yes to whatever it was she wanted.

“Hi Natasha,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. No point in seeming too keen.

“What, no ‘how are you’? No inquiries into my general health and wellbeing? If a girl didn’t know better, she might think you didn’t care.” She was definitely working up to something, the guilt trip wasn’t even subtle.

“I’m sorry,” he said, easily, allowing a note of teasing into his voice, “I wasn’t aware you had feelings to hurt.”

“Ouch,” she said, but he could tell she was smiling. “Fine, the small talk is over, but don’t think I won’t be telling Sam about that.”

Low blow. “Wow,” he said. “You must have one hell of a favour you need doing.”

She huffed out a laugh, and Steve allowed himself to feel pleased with that. “It might be time for me to try a new angle on you,” she mused. “But, yes, actually. There’s a little issue in Bed Stuy, that I was hoping you might be able to help with.”

***

Steve limped home twelve hours later, trying not to put pressure on his left ankle or further strain his right knee. It gave him a very strange gait and he was attracting more than the normal number of odd looks as he made his way back into his apartment building.

The mob. Actual Russian mobsters. Not what he’d expected when Natasha had called, but apparently Clint had run into some trouble and she was half-way across the world and unable to come to his aid. Her thinking of it as a favour made more sense, as it wasn’t exactly an Avengers type of case, more something that Daredevil or Luke Cage might handle. Not that Steve minded that, it was just that he was hardly an undercover operative and tended to attract more trouble than he solved. But, they’d managed to make it a quick in-and-out operation. Which hadn’t stopped Steve needing to leap out of a fifth story window in order to avoid being blown up, but no one was actually hurt that didn’t work for the mob. It was a win. Clint had been grinning through his bleeding lip and black eyes when the glass and rubble had finally stopped falling.

Clint had then thanked him profusely and offered pizza and beer as payment for his help, but Steve couldn’t face it. He’d looked at Clint’s pleased face and just wanted to be back in his apartment. The idea of sitting around with Clint, pretending to feel… anything, just seemed like more energy than he had. All he wanted was to be in the cool quiet of his bedroom while his body knitted itself back together. He didn’t think he’d actually be able to sleep, but he might be able to at least close his eyes and not think for a while.

That seemed to be happening more and more often. He’d sit down for a moment to look out of the window only to blink back to himself hours later. He didn’t mind that, it wasn’t like he had anything else he had to do. In fact, the idea seemed sort of appealing, not thinking about his body mending itself would make the process a lot more pleasant.

His apartment was familiar and completely unchanged when he dragged himself through the door. He ought to shower and change, but it was simply an unsurpassable hurdle. Instead he limped to the sofa and sat down. He somehow misjudged his landing and jarred his knee, making him hiss in pain. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regulate his breathing and that was when there was a knock at the door.

He considered ignoring it, but the chances were good that whoever it was had seen him come home and he didn’t want to come across as a total dick. He pulled himself slowly to his feet and back to the door, trying not to lean too obviously on the handle as he pulled it open.

On the other side was the man who lived just down the hall from him. The one that had probably overheard him and Sam arguing a few weeks ago. He was smiling a little awkwardly and holding an envelope in his hand.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he said, “but I think I picked up some of your mail by mistake this morning. I mean, it says,” he squinted down at the letter for a moment, “Simon Fogers, but I kinda assumed…” He trailed off and gestured at him with one hand.

Steve blinked at him, trying to process what he saying. The lingering sense of not quite being in the room was making it hard to concentrate. His eyes flicked over the other man, noting that he was fit, lean but well-muscled. He’d clearly just been to the gym and was still wearing workout clothes. Steve couldn’t help the part of his brain that assessed threats from ranking him as moderate. His eyes lingered for a moment over the sleek-looking prosthetic arm at his left side. That might pack more of a punch than a normal arm. Probably still nothing he couldn’t handle, but perhaps it would be more of a challenge than with the average civilian. Somewhere, a less used part of his brain also registered that he was attractive, Steve’s eyes flicked back down to where his t-shirt was clinging to his chest and flat stomach before returning to his face.

He realised that the man had stopped speaking and was now looking at him awkwardly and he startled with the realisation that that was because it was his turn to say something. “Steve,” he offered after a moment, sounding only slightly gruff. He hoped his annoyance at being disturbed wasn’t too obvious. “It’s meant to say Steve.”

The man blinked at him, a lopsided grin curving his mouth, apparently not put-off by how long Steve had spent staring at him and not saying anything. It helped ease the coil of tension in Steve’s body, making him think he wasn't there for a confrontation. “Yeah,” he said, voice warm with amusement, “that one I’d kind of figured out. I just thought maybe you were trying an alias or something.”

“Right,” Steve said, and then forced himself to continue. He could have a normal conversation. This wasn’t beyond him. “I mean no, they just… got it wrong.” He paused, but apparently more was expected of him because the man continued to look at him without speaking. “I forget that people…” He made a vague gesture before dropping his hand again. “You know... know who I am.”

Somehow he got Steve’s meaning because he just shrugged and grinned more fully. “You’re pretty recognisable: I think it’s the shoulders. But, don’t worry, I didn’t, like, tweet everyone that Captain America lives in my building or anything.”

“Right,” Steve said, finding an answering smile tug at his lips. “Thanks for that, wouldn’t want the bad guys turning up unexpectedly.” Then, finally remembering how these sorts of conversations were meant to go, he added, “You been in the building long? Living here, I mean.” He clenched his fists in annoyance at his inability to form coherent sentences. Maybe Sam was right about him not getting out into the real world enough.

The guy smiled again, and Steve could see the teasing twist to his lips, but instead of making another joke at his expense he said, “I guess, about six months.”

“You seem to…” Steve made another vague motion with his hand which the other man followed with a flick of his eyes before they returned to Steve’s face, “know everyone,” he finished lamely.

“I bought a toolbox with me when I moved in,” he stage whispered, with a conspiratorial lean in, “turns out word spreads quickly if you agree to fix a neighbour’s fridge free of charge.”

“Ah,” Steve said, “that explains the popularity.”

He just shrugged, his smile not dropping. “What can I say, I’m a generous guy.”

Steve was sure he wasn’t imagining the flirtatious undertone to his words. “I’ll bet,” he said, the words forming themselves in a tone that matched the other man’s. He’d never had much chance to hone his flirting skills, but he found it easy enough to match people’s tone and body language, and you couldn’t work with Natasha for years and not pick up some tips. It was a strange reflex, somewhere between wanting to be polite and genuine enjoyment at testing a skill.

They stared at each other for a moment, before the man seemed to shake himself. “Well,” he said, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just down the hall if you need me, my toolbox or any lost mail. I’m James, by the way, but everyone just calls me Bucky.”

“Right, thanks again,” Steve repeated, blinking in confusion at the nickname but not being able to form the question he wanted to ask. “Nice to meet you and I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, “Nice to finally meet you, Steve.”

“You too, Bucky,” he replied automatically. “See you around.”

Bucky just nodded before turning on his heel and walking away. Steve stared after him for a moment before slowly closing the door. He took a breath and looked at the envelope in his hand before deciding he didn’t have the will to open it. Instead he dragged himself into the shower before crawling into bed to sleep off the rest of the healing his body needed.

***

Bucky seemed to be everywhere after that. It wasn’t that Steve hadn’t noticed him before, but now he seemed to be in every corridor he walked down. If he wasn’t talking to another occupant of the building, he was changing a lightbulb in the hall, or carrying shopping in for an elderly neighbour. Steve passed by him with a nod and smile, but they didn’t speak again. There wasn’t really any need. But Steve noticed him. Which wasn’t something he was used to.

It wasn’t often that Steve noticed people these days, and that made the impulse to know more difficult to avoid. If the last few years had taught him anything, it was that if his instincts had told him to pay closer attention to something, he ought to heed them. He didn’t want to directly engage, but he did find himself wondering what Bucky did for a living, or if he was perhaps ex-military. There was something in the way he carried himself that made Steve think he must be. He decided to keep an eye out when he was in and around the building, gathering intel as it came to him. There was a vague sense that normal people didn’t think of getting to know someone as ‘intel gathering’, but Steve wasn’t a normal person anymore.

In the meantime, he continued his routine, folding in the mental note to keep a better track of his neighbours. These were the skills that he was going to need, that the world needed him to keep sharp. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t keep his focus when he tried to read or draw now: this body wasn’t meant for that.

It was an embarrassing relief when his phone rang later in the week. “Tony,” he said, having let it ring a few times in his hand before pressing the button.

There was a slight pause, before, “Cap.” Tony’s voice was stiff, the hesitation unnatural, but probably not surprising. Their fight over the accords was still fresh, relatively speaking, and their reunions between fights never seemed long enough for them to find a balance.

Steve might have wanted Tony to be his friend, before. The idea that Howard’s son didn’t like him, that he didn’t like Howard’s son, would have plagued him until he took action. Not that he knew what action he ought to take; making friends wasn’t really his speciality. He was too unyielding with too many hard edges for that. Tony was the same, even if he masked it with too many words rather than too few.

They respected each other. They trusted each other. For a given value. And that was enough. It was enough that they could work together easily and that was all Steve really cared about.

“I found something you might be interested in,” Tony said, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, curious, just as Tony knew he would be.

“Yeah,” he agreed, the smirk back in his voice, “the tentacle kind of thing.”

Steve paused, but given his life for the last few years had to ask, “Literal or symbolic?”

Tony laughed. “Symbolic. It’s a research centre if my readings are correct – and they always are – so you might be in luck and get both.”

HYDRA bases were very few and far between these days, other threats having risen to take their place, but he was gratified to know that Tony was still on the lookout for anything that remained. “I didn’t know that you were still looking for them.”

“Well,” Tony said, his voice back to hard, “you kill a guy’s parents and he tends to hold a grudge or seven.”

Steve felt a distant twinge of guilt for not making the connection. Of course Tony would keep looking. “Where is it?” he asked, instead of apologising and embarrassing them both.

“China,” Tony said, his voice light in a way that meant he knew trouble was around the corner.

Steve nodded to himself. “Ironman probably shouldn’t be seen there,” he said.

“Captain America will be welcome, I’m sure,” he said, irony heavy in every word. “But, don’t you worry your pretty blond head about that, I already called the Red Scare, so maybe you can keep it below the radar this time.”

“Got it, thanks, Tony,” he agreed, not bothered by Natasha getting the information first. She’d probably already be on her way over with a complete plan ready to go.

“Right, well, we didn’t have this conversation, I don’t know you or anything about you and your life, etc etc,” Tony finished, his voice flat and bored like he was already talking to Congress.

“Of course,” Steve said again, already at his closet, pulling out his uniform – the dark one, similar to when he’d been working at S.H.I.E.L.D., but with some (mostly design) modifications.

He waited for the call to end, but instead, there was a long pause before Tony said, his voice carefully casual. “You know, if you came by the Tower more often you’d know that I was still looking for leads in your endless quest to punch Nazis in the face.”

Steve let the silence drag on for a moment. It was partly surprise that Tony had even suggested it, but partly to acknowledge the bone-deep certainty that he had no desire to go to the Tower, with its harsh lights and thousands of employees. “But we don’t know each other,” he said, trying to sound amused and not annoyed.

Tony sighed. “I know you got your Castaway thing going on over there, but-”

“I’m in Brooklyn,” Steve said. “Two and half million people live here.”

The huff suggested that Tony didn’t consider those people the sort of people that counted. Steve gripped the phone tighter.

“Do you need something? I can always come over if you need-”

“Do I-?” Tony started, his voice disbelieving before he audibly forced himself to stop speaking. “No, Cap, I don’t need anything. I just thought you might want to stop by and see the place. FRIDAY misses you.”

Steve didn’t have anything to say to that or the blatant untruth that an AI had any feelings towards him at all. “Okay, well, I’ll stop by after this thing, maybe. I’m sure you have something new for me to play with. You know, for my endless quest.”

Unlike Sam, Tony didn’t press, didn’t try to call Steve on his probable untruth. “Well, good. Have fun and punch some Nazis extra hard for me.”

The line was dead before Steve could reply. He looked at the blank screen for a moment before pushing thoughts of the call away. He needed to focus on the mission. His skin was beginning to tingle with adrenaline, preparing for another fight. It felt good. Like he was coming awake again after a fitful sleep.

***

There were, sadly, fewer Nazis than he’d hoped for when he and Natasha infiltrated the base the next night. It seemed to be mostly abandoned, with only a few scientists and hired goons left to guard them. It took less than twenty minutes for them to take the base, with Sam waiting outside for evac or any required back-up. He joined them once it was cleared, nominally to help Steve guard the prisoners while Natasha downloaded what intel could be scavenged.

Steve felt jittery, like he’d summoned too much adrenaline and was now left without an outlet to dispel it. He flexed his fingers and tried not to pace the small compound.

Sam, by contrast, was leaning against the wall, apparently completely relaxed. “So, you want to do some sight-seeing while we’re here?” he asked, arms folded across his chest. “See the Wall at least?”

Steve looked at him, knowing he was joking but struggling for a moment to think of how to respond. “Think it’s a sight worth starting an international incident over?” he asked, forcing his lips into a smile.

He was rewarded with a full grin in return. “One of the Seven Wonders, it’s gotta be.”

“It’s alright,” Natasha said with a shrug. “It’s no Chichen Itza.”

“Fine,” Sam said with an easy shrug, “we do that next.”

“Little sight-seeing tour?” Natasha asked, her lips curving upwards.

“We got the jet, don’t we?” Sam asked. “Who’s to stop us having a little fun in amongst, you know,” he gestured to the bound and gagged prisoners, “kicking HYDRA’s asses.”

“Maybe next time,” Steve said, the words coming easy, “when we’re less likely to be shot out of the sky for invading foreign territories.”

“Killjoy,” Sam muttered, but he was still grinning as they followed Natasha up and out of the base, trusting that she’d already sent an alert for local authorities to come and take the prisoners into custody.

***

“You ever think about it?” Sam asked later, when they were entering American airspace again.

“About what?” Steve had already been wondering how long he’d need to run for when he got back to be able to sleep. He suspected it might be a few hours at least; his whole body seemed to be vibrating with unused energy.

“Seeing the world,” Sam elaborated, then added before Steve had the opportunity to say anything, “without the shield, I mean.”

Steve stilled for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he admitted eventually, seeing no point in lying. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“It’s a big world,” Sam said, voice low and soothing, like he was placating him.

Irritation rippled through him and he shifted in his seat, trying to shake it off. “I’m aware, but saving it takes up a lot of my time,” he ground out. “You ask Nat these sorts of questions?” He nodded towards the cockpit where she was piloting them home, her face set in concentration.

Sam smiled. “Sure,” he says. “But she’s got her own stuff going on.”

He wanted to ask what that meant. Did Natasha have some secret life she wasn’t telling him about? After Clint’s farm, Steve couldn’t be sure and he felt caught between hoping she did for her sake, and frustration that she might somehow be managing something that was completely eluding him. He didn’t react, however, because Sam was watching him carefully, which meant that he intended his words to have some sort of impact. Perhaps he was just trying to bring out Steve’s competitive streak, trick him into a vacation of all things. He held himself very still, taking slow, measured breaths before he spoke. “Good for her,” he said firmly. “I’ll think about the holiday,” he added to forestall any further questions. “But, I’d like to start with America. Where’d you recommend?”

It was easier that way, he thought, leaning back and letting Sam’s words wash over him. It didn’t cost Steve anything to let Sam think he was helping. People liked to help. They liked to feel useful and Sam had a particularly bad case of needing to fix everyone he came into contact with. He was a good man, and Steve cared for him greatly. He wanted to let him feel like he was helping. It didn’t matter that Steve wasn’t really listening, had no intention of planning a holiday that he’d never be able to take anyway. Sam didn’t need to know that. He was still relatively new to this life, it was kinder to let him think otherwise. 

***

Steve gasped awake hours later to almost total silence. He’d run until the sun disappeared, and then continued for another few hours after that before returning to his apartment and attempting to sleep. It couldn't have been more than an hour since he drifted off and his breathing sounded preposterously loud against only the distant rumble of traffic somewhere below. He blinked and tried to clear the memories – they were probably memories, but he was never really sure – of battle he’d just been reliving from his head. His hands were shaking. 

He considered, for about five seconds, trying to get back to sleep but abandoned the idea when his heart rate spiked at the mere thought of going back into the dream. He had to get out of the room. But even the living room suddenly seemed too small, too confined. He was in the hallway without even his shoes before he’d really considered where he was going. He grabbed his keys and began to pace away from his door as fast as he could without actually jogging. He didn’t want to go outside, partly because the thought made him feel vulnerable and partly because it felt like a defeat. Like he was retreating. The building seemed part-way to a victory and a defeat at the same time. That was manageable at least.

He walked the halls, taking the stairs slowly between floors, until his heart began to slow in his chest. He hoped that he might even start to feel tired, but he was too hyper-vigilant for attack for that. Instead, he roamed the building, relieved beyond measure that the corridors remained empty until he was able to talk himself into going back into his apartment.

It happened again the next night. And then the one after. And again. And again. He wasn’t sure what caused it, whether it was the realisation that HYDRA wasn’t gone, _still wasn’t fucking gone,_ or something else. But night after night he woke terrified and shivering.

It was easier to leave, to move. He stuck to the building, not sure if S.H.I.E.L.D. or anyone else might still be monitoring him and not wanting to raise any alarm bells if they were. Besides, the building was familiar and that helped, even if the walls sometimes felt too constricting and the air too thin.

It made the days harder. The serum meant he didn’t need as much sleep as other people, but even he started to feel the strain after a couple of weeks. It added a new sense of unreality to the days, which seemed to slide by both too fast and bone-achingly slowly at once. He tried to keep to his routine but found that he was slipping. He’d sit down to open a book and then blink, only to realise it had been an hour and he hadn’t read a single word.

If the days slipped by mostly unnoticed, the nights dragged by, inch by painful inch. He walked and he didn’t think, tried not to let himself think. But sometimes he found himself planning ops that had long since passed. Going over and over details on a loop. Retracing his steps, stumbling over mistakes and wondering what he should have done differently. Wondering about lives he could have saved.

“Hi.”

The voice made Steve start, whirling around to face in the direction of the sudden voice. He’d been walking down a corridor, he might actually have been pacing the same stretch of twenty feet for awhile, but he wasn’t sure. His mind had been in France. A mission where he’d lost twenty men, thankfully the Commandos came away with nothing more than scratches, but other men had died because Steve hadn’t-

He blinked back to the present to see Bucky, a sheepish expression on his face and hands up in mock-surrender. He had to again blink a few times before his breathing settled. He was in America. The war was long gone. He was safe. Everyone he was trying to save was long dead.

Steve looked Bucky over, noticing that he was wearing loose grey sweats and a t-shirt that was stretched tight across his chest. His hair was pulled back in a bun, his feet were bare. He looked about as unthreatening as it was probably possible for him to. “Sorry,” he said, voice soft, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Steve let out a long slow breath. “It’s fine,” he said. “I didn’t realise anyone was awake, I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Bucky was shaking his head before he’d finished speaking. “No, it’s fine, I just…” He paused, like he was contemplating his own words carefully. “The roof is a good place to get away from things. It clears my mind if I’m-” He made a vague gesture with his flesh hand, which Steve took to mean _thinking too much_.

Steve looked back at him, caught between denial and terror that Bucky somehow knew this wasn’t a one-time excursion. Had he seen Steve before without him realising? How many people had he missed? The thought made his pulse spike and skin prickle uncomfortably. Bucky was looking at him, expecting a response. He let out a slow breath. There was no use in pretending he didn’t know what Bucky was getting at, so in the end he said, “The door was locked. To the roof.”

“I have a key,” Bucky said, and at Steve’s look just shrugged, “like I said, the supervisor doesn’t ever fix anything around here and I thought it might come in useful, so I replaced the locks and… Anyway, I can get you a key, in case you think it might… In case you want to check it out sometime.”

“Thank you,” he said again, forcing a nod. “That’s… I’d like that.”

Bucky nodded. “And, I don’t… I’m awake weird hours, if you ever wanted company. Just knock on my door anytime.”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Thanks,” he said, knowing that he’d never do it.

Bucky didn’t push him, just nodded again. “I’ll drop the key by tomorrow,” he said. “Night, Steve.”

“Night,” he echoed as Bucky turned and walked away. He looked soft, Steve thought, as he watched him leave. Far away from war and pain.

He turned and walked back to his apartment.

***

The key had been slid under his door when he returned from his run the next day. He bent down to pick it up, pressing it tightly into his hand for a long moment. He entertained the thought that he wouldn’t use it. Perhaps he’d finally be able to sleep through a whole night without waking with a racing heart and soaked in sweat.

But he was proven wrong a few hours later. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before dragging himself from bed and out his front door. He didn’t bother to pretend to himself that he wasn’t going to the roof. Bucky had said it would be fine and he they were the only ones with keys it meant he was less likely to be disturbed. The key bit into the soft flesh of his hand and he gripped it tightly, like it might slip from his grasp if he didn’t. It turned easily in the lock and the door opened almost silently. He slipped out into the night and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a long moment.

It wasn’t quiet on the roof; New York at night was a different type of noisy than during the day, but not in way that could exactly be called restful. But if he positioned himself correctly, he was completely obscured from the view of anyone not standing on the roof directly opposite his. That was a comfort, at least, and he felt less trapped in the open air, the coolness of night calming him in a way that pacing the corridors had failed to.

He lost track of time, watching the traffic move below and mercifully not thinking much of anything. So, it might have been minutes or hours later that his head whipped to the sound of the door to the roof being pushed opened. It wasn’t a surprise when he saw Bucky framed in the doorway, half in shadow. Could he have known Steve was out here? It was possible, but he had said that this was his favourite spot too.

He considered turning and leaving the roof. He had no desire for company. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, and certainly not a stranger. But Bucky just stood for a long moment, watching him carefully, before walking across the roof on near-silent feet.

He was wearing PJs, Steve noticed, as he got closer, with a baggy hoodie thrown over them. It gave him that soft look from the last time they’d met. It was a strangely intimate thing to see on a stranger. But, rather than finding that off-putting it made Steve relax slightly, it made him feel like perhaps this was something they did all the time; meeting on the roof at night, like that was a remotely normal thing for anyone. He felt protected by the jeans and jacket he’d pulled on before leaving his apartment, while Bucky had sleepily shuffled out with apparently no concern.

The other man didn’t speak when he arrived at Steve’s side, but looked over the same view as him, watching where, in just a couple of hours, the horizon would start to lighten. Steve continued to watch Bucky watching New York at night. He traced the outline of the man’s face, taking in all the small details. It certainly seemed like Bucky had only just woken up, there was a crease from his pillow on his face, and there were dark smudges under his eyes. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what he was looking for. Signs of an imminent attack? If so, there were none, and the last of the tension left Steve’s shoulders and he turned back to looking out over the top of the building.

They didn’t speak, but after awhile, Bucky sank down so he was sitting rather than standing. Steve hesitated for a moment, but decided that it would be too strange not to follow suit and mirrored the other man’s posture, crossing his legs like they might be about to meditate or something. Time ticked on. Dawn began to sneak, pink and fragile, across the sky. Bucky breathed, like he was coming out of a trance, and turned his head to look at Steve.

“Thanks for staying,” he said, his voice soft. “Night’s shorter with company.”

Steve hesitated for a long moment, wondering if there was some implication in the words, some implied obligation that they’d have to do it again. But he saw nothing of that in Bucky’s face. It seemed to be a simple statement of fact. “Yeah,” he agreed, because he supposed it was true in a fashion. It had felt nice to have someone there, someone that hadn’t wanted anything from him.

Bucky’s mouth turned up in the merest hint of a smile and then he was getting to his feet and heading back into the building. Steve watched him go before turning back to the sunrise.

***

It was a few nights before Bucky joined him again. Steve hadn’t been waiting for him, not exactly. But found that he didn’t mind that he was there. He’d found himself thinking about him, his quiet presence and the contrast it had with the confident, smiling man he saw around the building during the day. There was something about that contrast that had caught Steve’s interest. He couldn’t be sure why; he barely knew him, but he was curious, in a way that he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“Reminds me of watch,” Steve said, after they’d been sitting in silence for a long time. He wasn’t sure if he was breaking some unspoken rule by talking or if Bucky was waiting to see what Steve’s rules were.

If he minded the interrupted quiet, he made no sign of it. He just nodded slowly. “Very different view,” he said, mildly as his hand drifted absently to his chest, like he was reaching for metal hanging around his neck, through his hoodie.

Steve tracked the movement before speaking. “You served?” he asked, knowing the answer already, it was clear in the way Bucky held himself, perhaps something in his eyes too, now he was looking for it. He’d wondered when he’d first seen that Bucky was missing an arm, but it wasn’t like that proved anything. Something jagged clenched in his chest at the thought, at the obvious scars war left in its wake. But, at the same time, he couldn’t help the slight relief he felt, or perhaps it was closer to hope, at finding someone outside of the Avengers that might understand, just a little, about why Steve was roaming the halls at two in the morning on a Tuesday.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Two tours.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you for your service.”

Bucky smiled, turning to Steve, amusement clear in his eyes even in the dim light. “Buddy,” he said, shaking his head, “thank you.”

It made Steve want to blush, the way Bucky was looking at him. It was a strange reaction, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been thanked plenty before – too much, it felt like most of the time. But, it was always different with vets, and Bucky especially seemed to be looking right through Steve into something hidden, like he knew Steve didn’t really feel like he deserved the gratitude. It made his voice thick when he answered. “You’re welcome.”

“Well, back atcha,” Bucky said, turning back to look out over the city.

There wasn’t much left to say to that so Steve just nodded and followed Bucky’s gaze.

***

The next night, it was Bucky who spoke first.

“You’re not the only Avenger I’ve made acquaintance with, did you know that?” His voice was soft and low, like it always seemed to be when it was just them in the night.

Steve’s stomach dropped, alarmed for reasons he couldn’t explain. The idea of Bucky in the context of his job seemed alien and wrong. He didn’t belong there. “Yeah?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual and not as terrified as he felt.

“Yeah. Stark,” he said, “he designed this.” He held up his left hand, which caught the light for a moment. “Neat huh? I only met him once and he didn’t even look at anything but my arm. But still counts, right?”

Steve let out a breath, relieved and then embarrassed at his relief. “Sure does. You’re practically brothers at this point.”

Bucky grinned. “Listen, pal, having Stark tech attached to my literal body is something I’ve been dinning out on for years, don’t take that from me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, looking away from Bucky again. He wondered for a moment about asking how he’d lost his arm. But that was for Bucky to give him if and when he wanted to.

They were silent for the rest of their time on the roof, but Steve felt more comfortable in it than ever. Bucky had shared something of his, offering it out like a gift for Steve to take. It was nice.

***

Bucky didn’t come back to the roof after that for over a week. Steve wondered if he’d put the other man off somehow. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t exactly need any other friends, but he had begun to wonder if perhaps he’d found someone away from the Avengers that might understand a little of his life. On the other hand, it wasn’t really like he had the capacity to have another person in his life. His current friends seemed to think he was doing a piss poor job of maintaining the friendships he already had. He didn’t need another person to let down. Still. It had been nice to not be alone on his night time vigils.

He still saw Bucky about the building and the other man always nodded his greeting, but nothing gave away any sense he felt a particular connection to Steve. Or, indeed, any hard feelings about anything Steve might have done. He took comfort in that and instead concentrated on the leads that Tony found for him. It seemed that HYDRA was getting confident again, there seemed to be an uptick in activity. But, why, or how, or for what purpose wasn’t clear. 

In some warped way, he took comfort in the familiarity of it. This was what he’d literally been built for, after all. So he took the files home with him, and tried to figure out some pattern to what he was seeing. Nothing became clearer, no matter how often he looked at the files, but that didn’t mean he could afford to stop looking. He didn’t want to be the one that missed something. He’d let HYDRA flourish while he worked for them for years and he couldn’t let something like that happen again.

“Man,” Sam said, standing in his kitchen, staring down at the files spread out on Steve’s table. He'd popped over unexpectedly, and Steve tried to be relieved for the distraction, even if his hands itched to reach for the files again. “You really don’t know how to take a break, do you?”

Steve plastered on a smile. “HYDRA never sleeps, Sam, can’t let them get another seventy-year head-start on me.”

“You know that’s not going to happen if you, just like, go to the cinema or something, right?” He was smiling, but there was the genuine concern back in his eyes. “Which is why I’m here, actually. I’m heading back to DC to see my family this weekend. Wanna come with me and make me the best offspring in the Wilson house?”

“That sounds lovely, and I hate to leave you to your own merit,” he said, carefully raising an eyebrow at Sam, “but Nat said she might have a new target soon. I’d hate to cut and run if your family are expecting me.”

Sam nodded, thankfully not deciding to fight him on it. “But you got time for a movie, right? There’s a new Fast and Furious that I just know you’re going to hate.”

Steve’s smile was more genuine in response to that. “Sure, Sam, I got time for that.” 

***

The film was mindless but Sam grinned throughout, nudging Steve with his elbow when something exploded or there was a particularly amusing quip. It was nice, although Steve found he had no idea what actually happened the moment the film ended. But, it made Sam happy he was there and that counted for something.

He elected to walk back to his building, although it was late by the time the film was done. Sam left him with a slap on his shoulder and a promise to check in on the potential mission when he was back from his family’s. Steve felt relieved knowing Sam would be away for a little while, then guilty for feeling that way. Sam’s checking on him was more than he probably deserved, but it seemed more and more to drain him.

He was contemplating contacting Natasha as he approached the building - perhaps she’d have something more for him to work on that would occupy him until he was tired enough to sleep for a few hours. He was just inside the building when something caught his eye. He turned, looking back through the door to the night outside, watching as a figure appeared in outline, face obscured in shadow. There was something off about them that gave Steve pause. They were only wearing a t-shirt, he realised, despite the chill in the dark air. They were also walking strangely, hugging something to their chest. He froze where he was, body tense as he waited for them to become clearer or move into the light. Sure enough, they were entering the building. Steve held his ground as they opened the door and the figure shuffled into the corridor, their concentration focused entirely on the bundle in their arms.

“Bucky?” Steve called, his voice sharp, more of a command than a greeting.

The other man’s head shot up, a frown between his brows. “Steve,” he said, walking slowly towards him. “You okay?”

Steve watched carefully as Bucky approached, trying to make up what Bucky was carrying in his bundled up hoodie . “Is that...” he paused, head cocked. “Is that a kitten?”

Bucky blinked, like he’d forgotten the lump in his arm. He looked down at it quickly and then back up. He looked embarrassed for a moment. “I found it outside by the dumpster.”

There was another beat of silence where Steve looked at Bucky’s face for a further explanation. “And so you wrapped it in your hoodie and brought it inside?”

“I think it got left by its mom,” Bucky said, a slight hint of defensiveness in his voice and something that was like defiance, like Steve might be preparing to reach out and take the kitten out of his arms. “I thought… I was gonna call someone. A shelter or something.”

“Right,” Steve agreed, his mouth turning up. “So, you just go around rescuing kittens and helping old ladies on your days off? Which one of us is meant to be the superhero again?”

“Ha, fucking, ha,” he said, although Steve thought he could see a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I couldn’t leave it out in the cold; it’s meant to go below freezing tonight. Besides, look at his face.”

Steve stared down at the kitten, big, green eyes stared back from the folds of Bucky’s hoodie. It was orange and white striped, tiny and admittedly fragile looking. It mewed only slightly pathetically up at him.

“You can come back to mine to call someone,” Steve said, and then felt stupid. Bucky’s apartment was literally three steps from where they are. “In case you need some help nursing your new arrival. I have some tuna and milk?” he added.

Bucky looked at him closely for a moment, obvious surprise on his face. “Okay,” he said, after a moment, flashing Steve a grin, “sure, why not.”

“I found a kitten once,” Steve found himself saying, as he led Bucky back into his apartment. “Back- back when I was a kid. Begged my ma to let me keep it, but I was allergic and it wasn’t like we could afford to feed a cat.”

“You gave it away?” Bucky asked, seeming to pull the bundle closer to his chest as he spoke.

Steve nodded. “Here.” He pulled out a carton of milk from the fridge and a can of tuna and then reached for a saucer. He placed them down carefully on the counter in front of Bucky. “You want to see if you can get your little charge to eat something while I figure out where you can take it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, dragging his eyes away from the kitten and to the counter. “Thanks, Steve. You really didn’t have to do this. I’m sure I could have found a shelter.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I have a lot of plans you’re crashing,” he said, then felt mildly embarrassed that it was true. Part of him knew he didn’t spend time with civilians for that exact reason. He didn’t enjoy the realisation of how different he was. All the things that seemed shut away from him.

He kept his back turned as he busied himself with his phone, searching for local shelters that might be open at this time of night. He found one surprisingly easily and called them as he turned back to watch Bucky carefully placing the kitten on his counter and coaxing it toward the saucer of milk. The kitten mewled again and sniffed at the milk and tuna but didn’t attempt to eat. Steve kept his eyes on Bucky as he started to frown when the kitten refused the food, obvious concern on his face. He realised after a moment that he was staring and there was a voice on the other end of the phone.

He turned and paced into his room as he began to ask about the process for bringing in a stray. By the time he re-entered the kitchen Bucky had scooped the kitten back up into his arm, nestling it in the mental one, so he could stroke his flesh index finger gently down its back. Steve felt one side of his mouth turn up as he watched him, leaning on the door jam of his bedroom.

“There’s a shelter nearby,” he said, pushing off from the door and holding out his phone for Bucky to take. “Closes at 11, so there’s still time to get over there. They said they can take him in. But,” he paused, watching the way Bucky was holding the kitten again, “maybe you should keep him,” he said. “Seems like he likes you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, apparently surprised by the thought, looking up from the phone and to Steve as he handed it back with a nod. “I was just thinking that maybe his name should be Shere Khan.”

Steve smiled at that. “You sure he’s fierce enough for that?”

“What?” Bucky said, eyebrow quirked pointedly. “You think just because he’s small he can’t be fierce or something?”

The laugh unexpectedly punched its way out of Steve’s chest. It was a short bark of amusement, but Bucky’s grin curved up, warm and pleased in response. “You have me there,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, pal,” Bucky said, “I’m taking that one to bank. Not often someone can say they out flanked Steve Rogers.”

Steve laughed again. “You’re welcome to it, not often I get called out so fairly in my own home.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “But seriously, you should think about it. He clearly needs a good home.”

Bucky looked at him, eyes searching for a moment before dropping his gaze abruptly. His smile stuttered for a moment before disappearing entirely. His whole face, just for a moment, changed completely to be devoid of emotion, like a blank mask. It was so startling that Steve might have thought he imagined it, but for the awkward way Bucky held himself as he moved toward the door.

“Anyway,” he said, his voice lacking the warmth from moments before, “thanks for the help. But I better head out if I’m gonna make it all the way over there before it closes.”

“You’re not keeping him then?” Steve asked, surprised by the suddenness of Bucky’s departure.

“Nah,” he said, not meeting Steve’s eye. “Probably not a good idea. But, I wanna make sure he’s taken care of.”

“Okay,” Steve said, wanting to move after Bucky as he made his way to the door but forcing himself not to move. 

“Thanks again, Steve, it was nice of you to help us out,” he said. Whatever strange emotion had caught him moments before seemed to be gone and Bucky’s face was a picture of easy charm again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He watched Bucky leave, trying to figure out what had just happened. “You going to at least name him before he gets new owners?” he asked, not sure why, but wanting to keep Bucky there a moment longer. Perhaps try to understand what he’d just seen.

He watched as Bucky let a slow smile creep across his face, something teasing back in his eyes where moments ago they’d been completely shuttered. “Sure, it’s gotta be Steve, right?”

Steve laughed again, surprising himself, and watched as something like satisfaction settled on the other man’s face. And that was the moment it clicked into place. He looked at Bucky, carefully cradling the kitten in his mental arm, an easy smile on his face, and just knew.

He wasn’t just a civilian. He was vet, with a good heart and clear blue eyes and dark hair. He was kind and funny and charming. And he was helping Steve without needing to be asked. He was flirting with Steve in a way that most people didn’t seem to know how to.

And he was lying to him.

Steve felt it with such certainty that it froze his bones.

***

Steve paced his apartment when Bucky was gone, his heart slowing to normal as he thought through the last few minutes. It was probable that he was overreacting or misreading Bucky. But, there was a feeling he just couldn’t shake and the sudden shift in Bucky’s demeanour and equally abrupt change back were unnerving. He paused before picking up his phone to text Sam, knowing that the other man would tell him that he was being an idiot for not at least using him as a sounding board. He considered calling, but decided that might be overplaying it. Instead he sent a text asking to meet for a run before Sam left for his parents’, to run something by him. Sam, true to form, responded after only a few moments to confirm the time. He didn’t even press for more information.

Steve was a good judge of character, he thought, as he put his phone back on the counter. He’d known Sam was good from their first encounter. Only fools ignored their instincts.

Sam met Steve outside his building less than half an hour later. They both dressed for a run to make their meeting as inconspicuous as possible. They took a careful path through the city, Steve’s eyes trained for anyone that might be able to hear or follow-them. He felt vulnerable being outside, but he also knew it would be harder to hear them if they were being tracked with the noise of the street.

“So,” Sam said, nodding once Steve had explained what had happened the previous night, “you’re saying it’s just a feeling?”

“There’s something off about him, Sam,” Steve said. “I knew as soon as I met him. It felt like I already knew him?” He shook his head. “He was everywhere and everything he said was just so…” He paused, struggling for the words. “It was all too perfect? Like it had been designed exactly for me. Who rescues actual kittens? Helps the elderly with their shopping? Fixes the communal lighting?”

“Erm,” Sam started, with a pointed look as both his eyebrows climbed his forehead.

“I know,” Steve interrupted him, “but I don’t actually do those things. Well, not that often.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at his inability to explain his thinking. “I just know; there’s something not right there.”

Sam was silent for a moment, just looking at him. “Are you sure that it’s not just that you’re into him?”

Steve stopped jogging abruptly so he could concentrate on staring incredulously at Sam. “What?”

“I mean,” Sam said, having to spin around so he could face Steve, “you’ve been talking about him non-stop for ten minutes and… he’s cute. In a sort of hobo kinda way. Just checking you’ve got the right end of the stick.”

“I…” Steve started the automatic denial and stopped himself. “I just think he’s hiding something.” He said the words slowly, having to pull them up from his suddenly too-tight chest. “He keeps odd hours and he’s clearly ex-military. I don’t… It’s not like, I mean he’s-”

“I was joking, man,” Sam said, his smile slowly slipping off his face as Steve felt his own face heat but was unable to formulate any words. There was a pause that bordered on awkward. Horror trickled up Steve’s spine as Sam continued to look at him in shock and it must have showed on his face because the other man continued, “But… Okay, look, I know you know things are different now, right? I mean, it wouldn’t bother anyone if you did have a thing for your hot, male neighbour.”

Steve swallowed hard. He hadn’t intended on… he hadn’t ever meant for Sam to know that he... not that it mattered, he told himself fiercely. Sam was a good man, he wouldn’t think differently about Steve for knowing that he was… that his interests didn’t just lie with women. But it didn’t stop the terror swelling inside of him like a reflex. The desperate need to hide made him flinch despite trying to hold himself still. He couldn’t help the denial creeping up his throat, however much he told himself that he was proud of who he was and that he shouldn’t have to hide it from anyone. Sam stared at him levelly, clearly schooling his features to betray nothing.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he managed after the silence between them had stretched on too long and had become uncomfortable.

Sam at least didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Yeah, but no one that actually matters would.” He made steady eye contact with Steve for moment. “ _I_ wouldn’t. The rest of the team wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Steve said, unable to hold Sam’s eyes as he said it. Perhaps he did know. But knowing didn’t seem to be the same as believing. His heart was thumping like he’d been sprinting. He took a shallow breath and forced eye contact. “Thanks, Sam. But,” he said, squaring his shoulders and changing the subject, “that’s not it. I do like him, he seems nice, but I just… I think there’s be something off about him.”

It looked for a moment like Sam was going to say something else but in the end he let it go. “Well, get to know him, then,” he said. “Either it turns out he’s up to no good and we bust him, or you make yourself a new friend. Win / win as far as I can see.”

There wasn’t really any arguing with that logic, he supposed. “I guess,” he said, starting to walk again and feeling Sam fall easily back into step with him.

“Or you could ask Tony or Nat to do some digging on him?” Sam asked, his tone back to normal, like their previous conversation hadn’t happened at all. Steve felt a swell of gratitude and fondness for Sam so strongly that he almost wanted to reach out and touch him. He probably would have if he wasn’t trying to pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened and for the tiny part of him that shrank back from the idea that Sam might now see the touch as something else. That he might flinch at Steve’s touch.

“No,” Steve shook his head, matching Sam’s easy tone through sheer force of will. “I might just be paranoid, it’s not fair to invade the guy’s privacy on a hunch. I think I should just carry on as normal, get to know him better, like you say. As long as he doesn’t suspect I suspect anything, I might be able to get some good intel, or maybe just put my mind at rest.”

“Okay,” he said, happy to follow Steve’s lead as he usually was. He was a good friend. A good soldier. “But,” he added, face set, “I'm gonna ask around the VA, if he’s ex-military someone might know him at least.”

Steve considered it and then nodded. That didn’t seem too intrusive. “Thanks Sam.”

“No worries,” he said. “Now we running or yapping? I ain’t even broken a sweat yet.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before Steve had put in a burst of speed and left Sam trailing behind him, calling out in mock indignation as he, too, sped up. They continued their run without much time to talk and by the time they got back to Steve’s building he was feeling pleasantly tired from the sunshine and exercise. Perhaps that was why he was caught off-guard by Sam stopping just before he turned to leave and looking at him seriously.

“Hey, listen,” he said, his voice sincere in a way that always made Steve want to fidget in discomfort, “thank you for telling me what you did before; I know that can’t have been easy. So, thanks for trusting me.”

“I didn’t tell you anything,” Steve couldn’t help but point out.

Sam grinned at him. “I guess not,” he agreed, “but it still took guts.”

It took all of Steve’s will power not to actively squirm and he forced himself to nod. “Thank you for not… Thank you for everything.” It didn’t make any sense and was frankly inadequate, but it was all Steve seemed to be able to get out.

Sam, of course, seemed to understand anyway. He reached out and clapped a hand to Steve’s shoulder. “Anytime.”

***

Sam text him later that week to confirm that some contact of his had managed to confirm that Bucky was a member of a VA. Sam’s old one back in DC, in fact, for a year or so. There wasn’t much paperwork on him, but enough that it seemed clear he’d been in army at least. Steve wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or not. Bucky hadn’t been lying, but it was a strange coincidence that he’d been at Sam’s VA and was now living in Steve’s apartment in Brooklyn.

Steve needed a plan if he was going to do anything else. He couldn’t be sure of anything, and just because HYDRA seemed to be active again after so long, didn’t mean there was a link. His heart pounded at the thought of them so close to home, again, even as he tried to push the thoughts away. Even if Bucky was a plant of some kind, he was just one person. One person that Steve was wary of now, as long as he kept his guard up, he was confident that he would be able to take the other man if it came to a fight. The thought was less comforting than it should have been.

He’d liked Bucky. He’d been kind and apparently genuine and it had felt like so long since someone had been kind to him for no reason. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. There was no point in sulking about it. He just needed to deal with the problem now. To do that, he’d have to get closer to Bucky. He’d already slipped up once, and chances were good he’d do so again if Steve spent enough time with him.

He’d have to make the next move, make it seem like whatever Bucky was trying was starting to work.

If, some small part of him said feebly. _If_ Bucky was trying anything. Either way, he needed to know and Steve wasn’t the sort of person to sit around and wait for trouble to come to him in its own time. It was time to formulate a plan of attack. 

***

The opportunity presented itself the very next day. Steve stared at his sink, his head cocked to one side in the early morning sun and thanked his decision to live in an older building that seemed to have an endless supply of maintenance issues. The sink had been making a somewhat strange gurgling noise for most of night. It wasn’t like Steve had been sleeping anyway, when it first started, but it had meant that he hadn’t slept since. It was the sort of irregular noise that could really be anything, and seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, that made it impossible to ignore it. He’d tried to for an hour or so, before getting up and attempting to locate the disturbance. Having found that it was just the plumbing and not an impending invasion of some kind, hadn’t made it any easier to sleep through. He’d given up around five and gone for a run, hoping that he might be able to tire himself out enough for at least a nap by the time he was home.

The sink was still making the noise when he got back. He’d considered calling a plumber when he remembered Bucky’s first offer to help out if Steve needed any jobs done. This would work. Something simple and routine, but hopefully also supply ample opportunity to ask Bucky some other questions. He changed quickly and showered before heading back out. There was no answer at Bucky’s door, however. He sighed, disappointed, but the sink would probably keep until the other man returned. So, he continued his way out of the building, aiming to run some errands before trying again.

Two hours later he was rounding the corner to the building when he spotted Bucky standing just outside the door to the building. He was talking to a short, dark-haired woman in a leather jacket. Steve smiled as he approached, pleased that the encounter would now look even more like chance and slowing down to a walk so as not to startle them.

“Bucky, hey,” he said as he reached him, his smile firmly in place, and then startled himself when he realised who it was Bucky was talking to. “Jessica Jones,” he said, and then held back his own wince at the abrupt way he’d said it. He hated it when people did that when meeting him, and he hurried on to cover the awkward moment. “I’m Steve Rogers, it’s good to finally meet you.”

The woman turned to look at him, her expression hardening. She hadn’t looked thrilled before, but now she looked positively hostile. She paused just long enough to make Steve wonder if she was going to blank him entirely. “No tights today, then?” she asked, her tone flat.

His mouth wanted to quirk up; he appreciated her dedication to being unimpressed by him. But, he also suspected that she wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at, so he settled for nodding solemnly. “Not today,” he confirmed. “Day off.”

“Shame, don’t often get a laugh like that,” she said, looking him up and down once before turning back to Bucky. “Next week?”

Bucky looked like he was unsuccessfully trying to press down on the smile that was tugging his mouth up. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Sounds good.”

Jessica stared at him for a moment, like she was trying to assess if he was lying before nodding once. “Captain,” she said, throwing off one of the most sarcastic looking salutes Steve had ever seen, and then turned and walked away.

They stood in silence for a moment watching as she strode down the street. “You know Jessica Jones?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him almost immediately.

Bucky shrugged, his gaze following Jessica as her slight frame disappeared into the crowd. “I don’t know if anyone can say that,” he hedged, “but, yeah. I drink with her sometimes.”

“Right,” Steve said. “And you’ve met Tony too. You make it your business to hang out with superheroes on the regular or…”

“Nah,” he said, waving Steve off. “I actually… I met her friend, or business partner I guess, at a group and he introduced us. It’s not like we’re best buds or anything.”

Steve wanted to ask what group Bucky was talking about, but sensed from his tone that he wouldn’t appreciate being pressed. He made a mental note to follow-up to see if could find the group he might be referring to. “Okay,” he said, forcing himself to drop it, and for his voice to sound casual and friendly. He was constantly impressed at Natasha’s ability to change her entire demeanour at the drop of hat, to be whatever the situation required. Steve had always felt too solidly rooted in his own skin for subterfuge. But he’d picked up a few tricks over the years and was a much better liar than when he’d first woken up. Apparently a key skill for this brave new century he’d found himself in. He let his tone take on a teasing note, turned his smile into something more mischievous. “That wasn’t me interrupting you getting a date then?” 

Bucky laughed, exactly like he’d hoped he would. “No,” he said. “I did go on, like, one date with her partner, though. It didn’t work out.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Right.” Was her partner male or female? He wasn’t sure who Bucky was referring to. Bucky turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in something like a challenge. Probably male then. Steve found himself saying hurriedly, “That’s good.” That at least made Bucky go back to smiling even as his eyebrows climbed higher. Steve dropped his head, rubbing the back of his head and smiled a little ruefully. Sam called it his ‘Aww shucks, ma’am’ move, and it tended to deflect most awkward situations. It was also helpfully neutral and could mean anything from flirtation to genuine embarrassment, depending on how the other person wanted to take it. “I meant,” he added after a moment, “she seems like she might be a lot to handle.”

That, finally, made Bucky laugh again. “You got no idea, buddy. You okay?” he added, looking at Steve expectantly.

“Oh, right,” Steve said as though he’d only just remembered why he’d come over in the first place, “I was just wondering if I could borrow your toolbox.”

“Of course,” Bucky said, his tone taking on a mock, long-suffering tone. “I knew it was only a matter of time, that’s all anyone wants in the end.”

Steve laughed. “There’s some real ominous sounds coming from under my sink,” he said. “I don’t want to call someone out, but I don’t have anything to take a proper look. I’m happy to provide pizza after, if you let me borrow some tools that might do the job?”

“Oh,” Bucky said, “so I’ll be supervising this expedition under your sink too?”

“I didn’t think you’d trust a veritable stranger with your tools,” Steve answered, mirroring Bucky’s smile.

“If I can’t trust an Avenger to return them in good condition, then the world is truly doomed,” he said, with an easy shrug, “but I also make it a rule never to turn down pizza.”

“Great,” Steve said, letting his genuine relief at Bucky’s acceptance show on his face. “You busy this afternoon?”

“Nope,” Bucky said. “I got a couple of errands, but I could be over around three?”

“Perfect,” Steve said. “Thanks, Bucky, I appreciate it.”

“They all do,” Bucky said, with a shake of his head. “Doesn’t hurt any less to be only as useful as my toolbox, though.”

“It’s a tough gig,” Steve agreed solemnly, “but at least you have one. We should all try and be thankful for what purpose we have.”

“Alright, Cap,” he said. “I got enough of that tone from the nuns at school, I don’t need it from you.”

Steve smiled. “There’s nothing like a disappointed nun to really inspire some contrition; I learned from the best.”

“Alright,” Bucky said, “enough, I’ll see you later.”

“Great, thanks, Bucky,” Steve said, as the other man turned and walked away in the same direction Jessica had gone. Steve looked after him, a smile still on his lips for a moment before turning around and heading back inside.

The unease he’d felt since his suspicions started, coiling tighter in his chest. Could it really be a coincidence that Bucky knew not one, but two other superheroes? What were the chances that someone with so many similar life-experiences to him was just suddenly there, wanting to be his friend?

***

“Do you actually know anything about plumbing?” Bucky asked mildly a few hours later. He was leaning against Steve’s kitchen table with his arms crossed and what might be labelled as a mocking smile on his face.

“I fixed the toilet in my apartment when I was growing up all the time,” Steve said, not looking away from the tangle of pipes in front of him.

“So, no then,” Bucky said, flatly. “Are you sure you want to be messing about with that? What if you mess it up even worse?”

Steve paused, Bucky had a point, but he hadn’t gotten where he had by not taking some risks, so he just shrugged. “Then I can get help.”

“Hmmm.”

There was silence and Steve took that as a sign to continue, so he bent back under the sink, wrench in hand.

“Did you at least turn off the water?”

Steve had not turned off the water.

An hour later, once they and the apartment were mostly dry again and a real plumber was on his way, Steve called for a pizza and plonked himself down next to Bucky on the sofa. He hadn’t intended to make quite such a fool of himself, but suspected it wasn’t a bad thing. Bucky looked more at ease than ever, curled on Steve’s sofa, his hair only slightly damp and curling at the ends.

“So, it turns out that plumbing got more complicated while I was away.” He tried to keep his tone mild and not show his actual embarrassment.

Bucky shook his head. “I think you just don’t like admitting to not knowing things.”

“I couldn’t possibly comment,” Steve answered. He turned to look at the other man and grimaced. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t dress in my finest for plumbing and pizza,” he said.

“It was mostly only water,” Steve added, probably unnecessarily. “But, I can… I’m happy to replace it or pay for the cleaning if you like.”

“Nah,” Bucky said, waving his hand dismissively, “it was worth it to hear Captain America scream and hit his head on the sink of his own kitchen.”

“I did not scream,” Steve countered. The water had been unexpectedly cold and high-pressured though, so there might have been a grain of truth in the joke.

“That’s what I’ll tell people,” Bucky agreed.

Steve turned his head to look at Bucky’s profile, his lashes looked especially long from this angle. “Why am I expecting an ‘in return for’ at the end of that sentence?’” 

Bucky turned his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “I would never blackmail an Avenger,” he said. “But, if were to,” his voice dropped lower, “I accept pizza and baked goods in return for any and all secrets kept.”

“Well,” Steve said, unable to not smile, “I’ll keep that in mind. In the unlikely case of my doing anything worthy of blackmail.”

Bucky grinned, showing even, white teeth. “You do that.”

Steve was saved from having to think of a reply when the doorbell rang.

“I thought you lived with the others Avengers,” Bucky said, as Steve came back in with the pizzas and placed them on the coffee table. “No offence, but I can’t help thinking Stark’s tower would beat the shit outta this place. Less plumbing issues you have to sort out yourself, for sure.”

Steve felt his mouth twist into something that wasn’t really a smile. “It was part of the settlements after the accords,” he said, it was public knowledge, so there was no point in lying about it. “We’re not meant to… congregate without some sort of oversight.”

Bucky frowned at him. “What the fuck’s that mean?” He looked genuinely annoyed, which made it easier for Steve to answer honestly.

“I think the government was nervous about a bunch of superheroes all living together where no one knew what we were up to.” He tried not to let his obvious anger show. He’d fought hard against the caveat. But, in the end, the others had agreed. Wanda and Vision wanted their own space, Scott had wanted to be with his daughter and Clint already had his family farm. Even Sam was talking about moving closer to DC and the rest of his family and Natasha no doubt had a bolt hole. Steve had slowly started to realise that he was the only one with nowhere else to go. There was no point in continuing a fight that no one else on his team wanted to win.

“Well, that’s a bunch of crap,” Bucky said. “They don’t get to pick and choose when you’re allowed to see your team.”

“I agree,” Steve said. “I mean… it’s a not a formal agreement, more like, a courtesy we’ve agreed to. This just helped with getting everything signed, they can’t and probably wouldn’t enforce it.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He felt tired suddenly. “I don’t know, maybe it was for the best; things can get a little tense when we’re all together for too long.”

Bucky smirked suddenly and when he spoke he was back to amused and a little teasing. “A lot of egos for one team, I’ll bet.”

Steve smiled, relaxing at the shift in atmosphere. “Something like that.”

“So,” Bucky said, looking around Steve’s living room, "what you do for fun? I figured we’d at least be able to watch Brooklyn Nine Nine reruns while we waited, but is that thing even plugged in?” He gestured to the TV, which did look a little forlorn on the other side of the room.

The way Bucky said it, like it was part-way between a joke and genuine question took out most of the sting Steve might have felt at the question. He smiled, instead of grimacing or making an off-hand comment. “I don’t really watch it, to be honest. I just…” He shrugged.

“Overwhelmed by the seventy years you had to catch up on?”

Steve tried to smile and thought it mostly worked. “It was all so different, and everyone seemed very invested in what I was choosing to watch. It just seemed easier to… not.” He looked up, expecting Bucky to make another joke, or tell him he was being ridiculous.

“Hey, I get it,” he said instead with a twist of his lips. “I missed the Wire and I swear I felt like a social pariah for years.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, “but, yes. That’s how it feels. Sam and Clint have made me watch a couple of things, but it’s difficult when you don’t have the foundation of cultural information to understand certain things. Fantasy is better, or documentaries. Comedy is…”

Bucky nodded. “Makes sense. Well, TV’s meant to be bad for you anyway, so it’s not like you’re missing out on anything really. But, I like it on in the background just for the noise of it, you know? If it’s too quiet I’ll suddenly realise I’m listening out for something, like I’m back in the desert.”

“I listen to music sometimes,” he confided.

“Well,” Bucky said, “maybe instead of the roof I should have been introducing you to the 101 movies to see before you die. You know, we could have started with the earlier ones and worked forward, give you a grounding in how cinema language changed. I ain’t an expert, but there’s a book that you can buy that explains it all.” He shrugged. “Might help. And I won’t have an investment in whether you actually like most of them, in fact I probably won’t have even seen a lot of them.”

“That’s,” Steve started, ready to brush off the offer, when he realised that he was meant to be getting closer to Bucky. This was offering him the chance to, presumably, see his apartment. He closed his mouth and took a breath. “Can we skip the war films?”

Bucky let out a breath, a near-smile curving his lips. “You got it,” he said. “I can get the book off Amazon and be ready to start next time you… Next time you fancy a trip.”

“Okay,” Steve said.

“Just send me a blank text before you head over – just a full stop or something,” Bucky said. “I’ll leave the door open and you can just come on in.”

Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. He couldn’t imagine actually asking Bucky to see him when he woke at night. But, an essentially blank text? That he might be able to manage. Bucky could always say he didn’t get it, if he wanted to meaning there was really no pressure either way. He nodded slowly. “Okay,” he agreed. “Thank you.”

Bucky waved him off. “You’re doing me a favour,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but I’m too lazy and just end up watching The Princess Bride again instead of,” he gestured, “expanding my mind.” He pulled a face and Steve was smiling at him before he thought about it, didn’t even need to remind himself to do it.

Bucky left after the pizza was eaten and the plumber arrived, taking his toolbox with him and giving Steve a cheerful wave as he backed out of the door. Steve was none the wiser as to whether he was on the level or not, but it was a start. At least he now had definite plans to learn more.

He could work with that.

***

The first two films on the list turned out to be ones that Steve had actually seen before he went into the ice. It made him relax a little as Bucky talked excitedly about seeing The Wizard of Oz when he was a kid.

“I was scared of the flying monkeys,” he said with a conspiratorial lean towards Steve. “So, of course, my big brothers chased me round the house pretending to be one until I cried and Mum got involved.”

Steve smiled, trying to picture a little Bucky, scared and crying for his mother. It was a strange but admittedly endearing image.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw it at the pictures,” Steve said. “It seemed so real. Of course, I didn’t get why everyone around me was suddenly going nuts when they went to Oz.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment before he seemed to blink in understanding. “You were colour blind?” he asked, surprise clear across his face.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I mean, I got by when I was painting but it wasn’t the same. That was probably the first thing I noticed after the serum. All the colour. It took a lot of getting used to; I found myself staring at things, like posters or the sky and not really being able to process it all.”

Bucky shook his head. “I kinda get what it’s like not to know your own body anymore,” he said, and Steve’s eyes flicked to his arm as Bucky flexed his metal fingers. “I know it’s really not the same. But, the arm, it’s stronger? Kept breaking mugs and things at first. Then I didn’t walk right, it felt…” He trailed off, eyes unfocused.

“Wrong,” Steve finished and Bucky nodded. “I still get that. Not so much these days, but when I wake up suddenly, I forget that I don’t have asthma anymore, or I find myself worrying about climbing stairs if I’m not thinking about it.”

“But it’s mostly good, right? It’s not like you would go back?”

“I mean, I’d be dead if I hadn’t taken the serum, so no,” Steve said. “This body, it can…” He paused, trying to find the words. “It can be useful. My whole life, I always wanted to be useful and was basically the opposite, so now I can be and I’m grateful.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on him when he’d finished speaking, something soft in his eyes. “I was the youngest brother,” Bucky said. “I got a kid sister, too. But I have two older brothers. They were real smart, good at sports. You know, the whole thing. I couldn’t work out how I was gonna compete, you know? I was good at math, and English, but hardly a scholar. So, I joined the army.” He dropped his eyes from Steve. “After 9/11. Figured that way I might make a difference, you know? I was good at it, too. Got promoted, special training. The works.”

Steve nodded, although he wasn’t entirely sure where Bucky was going with it.

“Mum and Dad would talk about how proud they were of me, all the time, you know? Telling people about how I was out protecting everyone back home? It felt good, like I was making a difference. And then…” He paused and smiled, but it was twisted, sad. “Well, I got blown up, and…” He shook his head, like he was clearing it. “Anyway, after, that was gone I realised that my whole fucking personality had been about being in the Army. Sergeant Barnes. You know?”

“Coming home was hard?” Steve asked, like he didn’t know the answer, like he didn’t know exactly what Bucky was trying to say.

The other man smiled suddenly. “You got no idea,” he said. “But, that’s another story and you don’t want to hear about all my shit. I just meant, defining yourself by how other people see you? I don’t recommend it.”

Steve blinked at him, surprised and at a momentary loss for words.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to need a response. He turned back to the flickering TV. “Hey,” he said, nudging Steve gently. “I love this bit.”

Steve watched Bucky for a moment, the way the light from the screen cast shadows over his face and lit his eyes. He found he couldn’t look away for a long time.

***

Tony’s face appeared on the screen of his phone, where it was gently vibrating on his kitchen table.

“Stark,” he said, flicking the screen up to answer the call. “You got my message?” He’d sent it first thing the morning after his trip to Bucky’s. He’d felt uneasy the moment he left the other man’s apartment. Like, somehow, he’d managed to give something of himself away rather than learning anything about Bucky. He wanted to get control of the situation and information was always the key to that.

“Hi Steve,” Tony said, his voice hard, in a way that Steve knew meant he’d inadvertently hurt the other man’s feelings. “Yes, I did indeed get your first message to me in over a month, asking if I’d hack into the army’s records to find out if your neighbour’s actually an evil plant by HYDRA.”

He held in a sigh. He knew from experience that there was no point in apologising. “Thank you,” he said instead. “And I’m sure you loved the excuse. What did you find?”

Tony paused for a moment, probably for dramatic effect, but it was possible that he was also trying to frame whatever he was about to say in the correct way. It was a strange thought and it made Steve hold himself tight, like he was preparing for a blow. “Maybe nothing,” he said, voice measured and slow.

“But maybe something?” Steve countered, leaning forward.

“All I’ve found so far are his service records. He was a POW,” he said, waving a hand to make the files float, eerily and vaguely-transparent in front of Steve, so they took up most of the screen and obscured Tony’s face.

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding, “he said… It’s how he lost his arm.”

Tony nodded, face set and grim. “The official records show that when he was debriefed he didn’t remember what happened. He was with them for six months. Apparently they kept him mostly sedated when they weren’t- When they weren’t interrogating him. He spent a few hellish months there before he managed to break out while in transit, picked up by Israeli troops near the border.”

“But?” Steve prompted, when it was clear that Tony had more to say but was being uncharacteristically reticent to say anything else.

“It all checked out,” Tony said, “there was a base, abandoned, right where he said it would be. But the Army managed to find some useful intel that lead to several high-profile raids. Only, I crossed referenced his story with the data Natasha dumped.”

“The base was HYDRA,” Steve finished, cold dread filling his stomach.

Tony nodded, swiping the information away. “There’s a chance it’s a coincidence,” he said with a shrug. “There’s no reason he’d know more about his captors than he said. It’s not like anyone even thought HYDRA was still a thing back then.”

“But you think he was converted to the cause while he was there?”

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “It’s possible,” he agreed, pursing his lips in obvious displeasure, “but all we know for sure is that he came back and was discharged a few months later. Got himself a shiny new arm courtesy of yours truly and hasn’t had so much as had a parking ticket since.”

“But he knows at least three superheroes,” Steve said. “Could he be trying to get close to one of us?”

“For what?” Tony asked. “All he got with me was a few minutes while I tested out some functionality and then he mostly worked with my team. I don’t know about Jessica. You think he’s trying to cosy up to you for some reason?”

“Might be trying to get information,” Steve said. “Or, hell, just get close enough to try something more drastic.”

“Should we put him under surveillance?” Tony asked, brows creasing but Steve shook his head.

“Not yet; it still might be nothing and I don’t want to risk spooking him even if it is, I’ll try and get closer to him; see if I can make him slip up in some way.” He nodded, the anxious feeling in his stomach making him want to do something, burn off some energy. He wanted to end the call, get on with the plan. Or at least come up with a reason to see Bucky again.

“Alright,” Tony said, spreading his hands out on the table in front of him. “But be careful. If he’s HYDRA he’s an experienced operative.”

“So am I,” Steve said, jaw tight.

Tony smiled a little grimly. “No one’s doubting that, Cap,” he said. “But there’s no reason not to take it easy on this one.”

“If he’s up to something, Tony-”

“We’ll figure it out and stop him,” Tony interrupted. “But no need for you to do it alone. Together, remember?” He managed to sound only slightly mocking as he said it.

Steve didn’t roll his eyes. Instead he forced a nod. “I get it. But I’m still the one best able to get some intel.”

Tony sighed. “Fine, you carry on,” he said heavily. “I’ll call if I find anything else.” 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky spend more time together, but Steve's feelings of unease continue to grow. Things come to a head and Steve makes a decision, the repercussions of which are bigger than he could have imagined.

Steve considered going over to Bucky’s that same night but decided against it. He didn’t want to come on too strong. If he started pushing too hard, too suddenly, there was every chance he’d give himself away. So he forced himself to wait, to continue on with his normal routine. It wouldn’t do any good to muck things up because he couldn’t be patient. It wasn’t his strong suit, admittedly, but it was just a few days.

He found that things had shifted, though. Bucky would grin when he saw him around the building and stopped to ask how he was. Their interactions were always easy; Steve didn’t have to try to get along with him. Bucky did most of the work, always seeming to have the right words, or knew how to match Steve’s moods. It was impressive, or would be, if it didn’t trip about a million warning signs that made Steve’s fingers tingle with something that was somewhere between anticipation and anger.

He texted Bucky when he woke two nights later, just a full stop, like they’d agreed. It took him a few minutes, longer than usual, to calm down enough to get his breathing under control and rag himself out of the apartment. He wondered if he looked worse than usual, because when he entered Bucky’s apartment, the other man looked at him for a long time. Steve thought he was going to ask about why he was there and braced himself. But it didn’t come. Bucky just gestured for him to sit on the sofa and cued up a movie.

Sunset Boulevard was not what Steve was expecting and neither he nor Bucky spook once it got going. At one point Steve looked over to find Bucky had leant forward, hands on his knees, totally engrossed in the movie. It took a moment for him to be able to look away from the little frown that had formed between his eyes, the way he was worrying his lip. Steve found himself stuck more and more frequently on small details like those, especially when he was around Bucky. He shook himself and looked back the TV, thankfully able to pick up the plot with relative ease.

“Wow,” Bucky said, leaning back after the film had finished. “I’ve heard people say that line before but I never knew it was from this film.”

“Me either,” Steve said. “Did you like it?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Yeah, it was pretty good. Although I’m not sure why everyone was so obsessed with her.”

“Norma didn’t do it for you?” Steve asked, amused.

“I’m not exactly her target audience,” Bucky said, rolling his head where it was rested on the back of the sofa to grin at Steve. “I haven’t been on a date with a girl since Junior High.”

“Well, I got you beat there,” Steve said, “I’ve not been on a date with one since the 40s.”

Bucky laughed, light and easy, which was different too. Usually people cocked their head at him and looked sad when he mentioned anything to do with having missed seventy years. “Different reasons,” Bucky said, with a small smile. “Bet you didn’t get outed to the whole school because you decided it was a good idea to kiss Billy Simon behind the bleachers and got caught.”

Steve smiled crookedly. “No,” he agreed. Then noticed the slight tension across Bucky’s shoulders. The uncertainty behind his eyes at having revealed something private to a relative stranger. “But, ah,” he continued, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I did kiss Mike Green just before I managed to get myself shipped out finally. Told him it was my last night in the city. Always did have an easier time with the fellas before the serum than dames.”

Steve noted the tension leave Bucky and be replaced with surprise, but pleasure too. Steve wasn’t used to the simplicity of talking about it like this. There had been ways, before, to let another man know you were interested, but you didn’t talk about it. Not like this. And it was better now. Of course it was. Being able to say the words aloud to someone, to be able to just say, “I like men too,” was amazing. Like jumping from a plane. Terrifying and brilliant and thrilling. But it probably wouldn’t stop being strange.

He wondered for a moment if he was giving too much away. But, if HYDRA had sent Bucky, chances were good they already knew or suspected that Steve might be interested in him. And if they hadn’t sent him... Well, then it was nice to be able to say it to someone else.

“I never got that,” Bucky said, his tone light.

Steve’s eyebrows rose in question.

“I’ve read an interview where you said that before, that no women before Peggy paid you any mind,” Bucky said. He looked awkward for a moment, but if that was because he mentioned Peggy or admitted to having read up on Steve he wasn’t sure. “But, I’ve seen the pictures. You were still,” he paused to gesture, “you.”

Steve just stared at him, unsure what he ought to say.

“I just can’t believe that you really couldn’t have found a girl,” he said, turning away and back to the TV. “You’re a good guy and you were handsome too. Anyone would have been lucky to have you. Those 1930s women must have been nuts.”

He sounded so certain that Steve could feel his face heating. “I think the bum heart, two left feet and zero prospect of providing for anyone probably didn’t help,” he felt compelled to say. Not sure if he was defending the women of his era or just wanting to make Bucky understand what he’d actually been like before the serum.

“Short sightedness is what it was,” Bucky answered, a hard set to his jaw.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, can’t believe more people weren’t willing to bet on me.”

“You got that right, pal,” Bucky said. He picked up the remote, like the conversation was done and the matter settled. “You want to sleep or shall we see what Creature from the Black Lagoon’s like?”

He paused, unsure if he should let the topic change go. Bucky was wrong, but Steve couldn’t help appreciating the sentiment. He took a slow breath and sank back into the cushions of the sofa. “I got time for another,” he said.

Bucky grinned and clicked play.

***

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice seemed to be coming from far away. It probably was; she’d been on an unspecified mission for a couple of weeks and contact had expected to be patchy.

“Natasha,” he replied, switching his phone to his other ear so he could put down his book and mug.

“Stark called about your… new friend,” she said, her voice low but all business.

“You know something about that?” he asked, looking around as though expecting Bucky to suddenly appear in the middle of his apartment.

“He was S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said, no preamble.

“Really?” Steve said, sitting straight up, his stomach clenching at the unexpected news. “Did you work with him?”

“Not directly,” she said. “It was really common for S.H.I.E.L.D. to pick up ex-army. But, looking through his file, it seems that he was used on covert ops mostly.”

“Like you and Clint?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” she said. “And, Steve, he was good. He worked a lot on his own, but his code name was the Winter Soldier.”

“That…” Steve sighed and rubbed his head. It sounded shady as hell, to be honest. “Is there any way to tell if he was HYDRA?”

There was a pause. “Not with any real accuracy,” she answered, clear frustrated. “Not all his orders came from HYDRA, although some certainly did. But, there’s no evidence he knew that at the time. Or, nothing I can find at the moment. There’s a reason he was only debriefed a couple of times after everything went down. There wasn’t much to go on, but I’m not ruling out HYDRA destroying evidence to cover up some of his ops.”

Steve hung his head for a moment and took a deep, steading breath. His heart was hammering and there was an undeniable feeling of disappointment welling inside of him. “Okay,” he said. “So, it’s not looking good. I’m going to keep an eye on him. Maybe two, now.”

“Steve,” she said, his voice firm, “be careful. He was really good. If he’s a hostile, he could do a lot of damage. Even to you.”

“I always am,” he replied, and didn’t even flinch at the obvious lie.

“Try not to do anything too stupid until I get back in a couple of weeks. I’m going to keep looking, perhaps look up a couple of old friends when I can. I’ll let you know anything else I can find.”

“Thanks Nat,” he said, hating the way his chest was aching at the thought that Bucky had been lying to him the entire time.

“Stay safe, and see you soon.” She was gone before Steve could answer.

***

The screen had gone black in front of them. He hadn’t much liked the film, he didn’t think. He’d felt irritable and uncomfortable watching it, but it was hard to keep hold of the reasons why. His attention kept slipping. He wasn’t asleep, he didn’t think, but he certainly wasn’t awake either. It must have been gone four in the morning and his head was thick and swimming. Perhaps if closed his eyes he might be able to sleep. But he couldn’t exactly do that on Bucky’s sofa. He needed to gather himself. And he would, any moment now, he’d find the strength to pull himself from the sofa. But the idea of returning to his apartment made his chest tight.

“You alright?” Bucky asked, his voice was low, presumably so he didn’t startled Steve. “You’re welcome to crash on the couch if you don’t want to get up.”

“No,” Steve said. “I’m fine. I can go.”

“You know,” Bucky said gently, his tone light, Steve might have called it teasing but it sounded too uncertain for that. “We don’t have to just hang out in the dead of night.” Steve looked up at him. “I just mean… Look, you’ve obviously got a lot going on, but you’re not saving the world all the time, right? So, if you wanted to do something in the day, we could do that too.”

“Like what?” Steve asked.

That made Bucky roll his eyes and smile. “Geez, I don’t know,” he said. “This, but with pizza again. Or, you could help out with some of the stuff I do around the building, meet some of the other residents. There’s this centre I go to that’s got classes for things, too. Not just workout stuff, but community things. They’re looking for volunteers. I was thinking of offering some DIY classes, maybe you could do painting?”

Steve blinked at him. This was exactly what he’d wanted, a chance to get to know Bucky better. Understand what his life was like. But now he didn’t quite know what to say, how to articulate the acceptance. “So you’re asking…” Steve started and then stopped, because he wasn’t entirely sure what Bucky was offering.

“I’m asking to be your friend,” Bucky said, slowly. “That’s happened to you before, right?” He said it like a joke but Steve paused for a little too long and so he hurried on, eyes wide, “That wasn’t meant to be a trick question or anything. And I’m sorry if I’m massively overstepping here. I just don’t know a lot of people here either. But, really, don’t feel obligated. We can just watch movies sometimes. That’s fine.”

Bucky looked increasingly concerned as the conversation went on, which was heavily tinged with embarrassment by the time Steve managed to get it together to say something. “Sorry, Buck,” he said, the shortened version of his name slipping out automatically, “I don’t know why I’m being-” He gestured at himself. “I just…” Steve sighed and looked down at his hands as he dropped them back to his lap. “I’ve never really done this part of it.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “Which bit is that? Sitting around in sweats eating pizza with someone?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Well, yeah.” He chanced a quick look at Bucky and found no mocking or scorn reflected back at him. “At least, not outside of my teams. I had a couple of friends when I was growing up, but no one close, you know? It was always: don't get sick again or find some money and then it was just: stay alive.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

“It ain’t like I’m an expert, pal,” he said. “I didn’t get out of bed for a month when I got back from Afghanistan.”

Steve grimaced at the thought of Bucky feeling bad enough to not want to get up. It was a jarring imagine; he was so full of life, so happy and easily charming. “How did you…” he started before the words got stuck in his throat. He felt exposed and terrified at even the thought of hinting that he might understand what Bucky had experienced. But, he reasoned, this probably wasn’t even real. He could say anything to Bucky. It might even help if he thought Steve was vulnerable, it might encourage him to slip up. He paused, struggling with how to continue, the silence stretching on too long, but Bucky didn’t react, just waited patiently for him to speak. After a moment Steve took a breath and forced more words out. “How did you get past that? The not wanting to get out of bed thing.”

Bucky’s mouth quirked up on one side, like he was remembering something it was easier to laugh about than cry. “I just…” he shrugged. “I dunno. It wasn’t one thing. I did lots of small things. Like, making sure that I showered everyday and then it was leaving the house everyday or making sure I spoke to one person everyday. Which I know sounds easy, but-”

“It doesn’t,” Steve broke in, not only wanting to comfort and reassure Bucky, but also wanting to show that he understood.

“I dunno,” Bucky said, “I got a lot of therapy, but I ain’t an expert. You might want to…” He paused for a moment, clearly unsure, then look a deep breath before continuing. “Having someone to talk to about this stuff, someone who isn’t a friend, it’s good.”

Steve tried to keep the grimace off his face and but clearly failed as Bucky grinned at him and held his hands up in surrender.

“I get it, and it’s not for everyone,” he added. “But, for me, it was good to say things I’d never say to someone who really cared about me, you know? Stuff I wouldn’t want to worry anyone with, and they gave me a new way of looking at some stuff. They kinda help me figure out how to be ‘a real boy’ again.”

“I got that reference,” Steve said, because he did and it was a way not to respond to anything else Bucky said.

“Good for you,” Bucky said with an eyeroll, but he apparently couldn’t keep from smiling. “I’m going to leave the card for my therapist on your fridge next time I’m around. You can ignore it and I won’t bring it up ever again. How’s that?”

“That’s…” Steve considered it for a moment, “fine.”

“Alright,” Bucky nodded, in a way that Steve was coming to realise meant that he was done with the conversation. He let out a breath, pleased that he wasn’t going to push further. “Now you sleeping here or heading back? I gotta sleep or I’m going to be utterly useless tomorrow.”

Steve tried to stifle a yawn. “Yeah, alright, I’ll probably be able to sleep now.”

“Right,” Bucky nodded, and pulled himself to his feet and Steve followed him. “You gonna see yourself out?”

He nodded, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. “Night Bucky, thanks for tonight.”

Bucky grinned at him, sleepy and soft in the dim light. “Any time. Night Steve.”

***

Bucky texted Steve the next day to ask if he wanted to come with him to the community centre. Steve stared down at the message for a long time, watching until the screen faded and then turned to black. He wanted to tell him no, or at least put him off. It’s what he would have done if the request had come from anyone else. The idea of being out in public made him pre-emptively exhausted, especially where he might be forced to interact with the public. But, this is what he’d wanted, the more chances he took to spend time with Bucky, the more likely it was that he’d slip up and reveal something. He couldn’t afford to shirk his responsibilities just because it was difficult.

He was still gripping the phone tightly and considering how to word something that wasn’t a direct dodge but also wasn’t an agreement, when the phone buzzed again in his hand.

_ You can wear glasses and a hat, if you want. I’ll tell them you’re my mute cousin from out of town. Just thought you could check it out before you commit to anything _

Steve’s mouth turned up at the corners as he began to type out his reply.  _ I thought my shoulders were the give-away? _

Bucky’s response came through quickly and Steve wondered if he’d been waiting for a response. The thought was gratifying until he reminded himself it was possible it was because Steve was Bucky’s mark.  _ You don’t have a baggy jacket to cover up with? _

Steve huffed a small laugh, he didn’t really have an adequate counter-argument for that.  _ Fine. But you’re coming up with my backstory. This is a deep cover op. _

Bucky sent back a string of emojis and a promise to come and get him the next morning at ten. Steve smiled again before he pocketed the phone and went back to getting on with his day.

Tony had just sent through another batch of intel around possible HYDRA activity, or at least suspected HYDRA activity, and he was running point for Natasha while she checked it out. It was unusual for him to play a support role, but he liked the opportunity to flex more of his planning muscles than his actual ones. Hill had done most of the heavy lifting when he was at S.H.I.E.L.D., but she was currently in the wind with Fury so it fell to him.

Steve had always liked puzzles and mostly found he had the focused attention required to complete them in good time. It was nice, the way his mind unfocused from the world around him for a little while. He supposed Tony must find it similar when he was working on something, and he understood more and more how tempting it could be to just let yourself stay in that feeling. Steve mostly preferred direct action, his body rarely let him sit still for long periods of time, but he could understand the appeal.

The mission didn’t yield any great results, but it managed to take most of his attention for the day so, along with a run after dinner, he was able to sleep most of the night. Waking up and realising that he’d managed over four hours made him feel hopeful that the day might not be too terrible. He still had plenty of time to exercise and eat before Bucky arrived, he even managed to tidy up some loose ends from the day before.

Bucky grinned at him when Steve opened the door. “You still good to come?” he asked, eyebrows raised in what might have been a challenge.

Steve set his feet firmly, an automatic response to any challenge since he was old enough to recognise one, and stared at Bucky levelly. “It’s a community centre,” he said, not keeping the sarcasm from his voice, “I’ve been to scarier places.”

“I dunno,” Bucky said, “you haven’t seen Denise on front desk. She’s pretty intimidating.”

Steve reached out to grab his jacket from beside the door before following Bucky down the corridor, his slightly longer strides making it easy to catch up to him. “I’ll take my chances,” he said as he drew up beside him. 

Bucky’s mouth curved up in a half smile. He looked pleased, surprised maybe, that Steve was there. Not for the first time, Steve wondered if that was simply because Steve tended to avoid other people, or if this was all some sort of elaborate trap Bucky was setting. He touched his phone where it was resting in his pocket. He ought to let Nat or Tony know where he was going, Sam had stayed on later with his family, but he could text one of them at least to let them know he was with Bucky. That would be the safest thing in the event that this  _ was  _ a trap of some sort. He was toying with the outline of his phone when Bucky spoke, his tone more gentle and serious.

“This won’t take long,” he said. “I just thought I’d give you a quick tour of the centre and then I need to chat with one of the managers there. But we can come back straight afterwards.”

Steve left his phone, his hand clenching into a fist at his side instead. Knowing what was expected of him, and that he wouldn’t be asked to suddenly get involved with anything beyond Bucky showing him around, calmed him. Part of his not liking to go out was that people often sprung something he wasn’t expecting on to him. It was never just a run. It was breakfast and a run. Or it was lunch and then shopping. He’d never found the words to explain that he didn’t have the energy for anything unexpected. That socialising lately was something he needed to prepare and conserve energy for. He wondered if Bucky volunteering the information meant that he’d experienced something similar, but wasn’t sure how to ask. Instead he nodded and said, “Great. Sounds good to me.”

The centre turned out to be less than a ten minute walk from the building. It was a low, two-story building, flat-roofed and rundown the way of most public buildings in the area were. But the door was painted a bright green and there were cheerful-looking potted plants outside the windows. Inside it was much the same, the building needed maintenance, but it was clear that care went into its upkeep; it was clean and neat, with art from what Steve suspected were local artists hanging on the walls.

“Morning, Denise,” Bucky said brightly, his smile wide and charming as they entered. “How’s my favourite girl doing today?”

The elderly woman sitting behind the desk was small but very well put together. Her white hair was pulled back in a neat bun and silver-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She pursed her lips at Bucky, clearly aiming for disapproving even as a little smile was tugging at her lips. “James,” she said primly, even as she sat up straighter under his attention. “Still haven’t got that haircut I see.”

Bucky’s hand shot up to cover his chest as though he’d been wounded. “Now, come on,” he said, “you know I can’t cut it, because then you really will want to run away with me and we both know that you’ve got responsibilities here.”

Denise shook her head, her smile only widening despite her apparent attempts to stop it. “Then leave me alone,” she said. She paused for a moment, her smile fully evident, before she changed the topic. “Mark’s expecting you.”

It was a lovely scene, Steve had to admit, as he watched them. But he couldn’t quite help the little voice in his head that nagged at him. Surely Bucky’s over-the-top kindness couldn’t be for real. Did people really behave like that? Could Bucky really be that at ease with everyone he met?

“Alright,” Bucky said, with a rueful shrug, “I’m going. I’m just gonna show my buddy Steve here around first, though.”

Denise looked over at him for a moment before she looked back at Bucky. There was a moment before the now familiar flicker passed over her face and she looked back at Steve, getting another, longer look at him.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve said, nodding. “Bucky was just telling me all about you on the way over. It’s great to meet you.”

“Oh,” she said, looking ruffled.

Bucky laughed. “Okay,” he said, gesturing to Steve, “come on. Denise,” Bucky said, “Steve’s just passing through so no tweeting about this the moment my back’s turned.”

Denise blinked again, seeming to come back to herself suddenly. “James,” she said. “You know I only use social media to post previously-approved content about the centre.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky said, mostly managing to keep the laughter out of his voice. He reached out and wrapped an arm over Steve’s shoulder to drag him away from the front desk. Steve was taller than him, so it meant he had to walk on the balls of his feet and sway into Steve slightly as they moved. “Come on,” he said again. He waited until they’d turned a corner before dropping his arm and shaking his head. “Honestly, are you for real with all that ‘ma'am’ stuff?”

Steve turned his head a smile that matched Bucky’s on his lips. “I was just being polite,” he said.

Bucky shook his head. “You sure were, fella,” he said. “Charm the birds right outta the trees if you wanted. You could have all the old dears in the building making you dinner every night of the week if you put your mind to it.”

A flush was working hard to spread up Steve’s neck and cover his face and so he put a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed gently. “I try to only use my powers for good,” he said.

Bucky laughed, knocking shoulders with him. “So, let me give you the grand tour,” he said, with an exaggerated wave of his arm. 

There turned out not to be all that much to see. A small community kitchen that apparently held cooking classes, and also made meals for the homeless when they got enough food. A garden out the back where a few older men were working in companionable silence. The rest of the building held rooms of varying sizes that could be rented by various groups, ranging from AA to bingo. The space was airy and bright, with people milling about or busy in classes. It was nice, small scale and simple in a way that reminded Steve why he’d wanted to leave Avengers Tower and come home to begin with.

“Who owns it?” Steve asked, as they neared the end of the tour.

Bucky shrugged. “I dunno,” he answered, “I think it’s a community charity made up of local residents. They don’t have the money for the big things that need doing, of course, but it means that the costs for renting rooms can be on a sliding scale. Rooms for commercial things like dance classes are more than the educational community groups and I think the therapy ones get them for free.”

Steve nodded. It was weird, it wasn’t like he didn’t know there was plenty of community still to be found in Brooklyn, hell everywhere in New York, despite what people might want to say about it. But now that he was thinking about, he wasn’t sure that he’d seen anything like it since before he went to war. It made his chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Right,” Bucky said, gripping Steve’s shoulder briefly, “I just wanted to show you this. Then, I’m going to go see Mark real quick. Meet you out front in ten minutes?”

Steve didn’t need to ask what he was being shown. There was a little art studio through the doors in front of them. It was a corner room, meaning there was twice the light and easels were dotted about the room. “Oh,” Steve said, “sure, okay. See you in a bit.”

Bucky smiled encouragingly at him and turned and left back down the corridor they’d just walked down. Steve wasn’t sure why he had to steel himself before pushing the door open, or why he felt oddly relieved that Bucky hadn’t come in with him. The room was quiet, messy in a way that studios always seemed to be. Supplies were stacked at the far end of the room and works in progress dotted the walls.

Steve walked into the centre of the room and stood still for a long moment. It wasn’t anything like the classrooms he’d been in during his fleeting time in art school when growing up. But the feeling in the room was eerily familiar; the art on the walls could have been something any of his classmates were working on – half finished still-lifes and the Brooklyn Bridge.

The moment caught for a moment in his chest, the desire to go home so startlingly strong that he couldn’t breathe. He gripped his hands into tight fists, noticing with dismay that they’d started to shake, and closed his eyes. Let out the breath. Took another and another until the moment passed. He’d forgotten how that could happen. That his desire to find things that were familiar often came with the reminder of how different his life was now. It didn’t always hurt, but it always made him feel disoriented for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt better. But he stayed for a moment, unwilling to give up the moment of melancholy, the connection to home, even though it hurt.

Bucky was leaning against the low wall that edged the property of the building when Steve finally made his way out of it.

“What did you think?” Bucky asked, as he approached, pushing away from the wall and falling into step with him and they began walking down the street.

Steve didn’t try to hide his smile. “It’s a great place, Buck,” he said. “Thank you for showing me.”

“You reckon you might be interested in teaching some classes?” he asked, ducking his head. “They’re always looking for people to help out.”

“No,” Steve said, his chest tight. Bucky tensed for a moment at his side but then shrugged easily and Steve felt himself relax, tension he wasn’t even aware he was holding releasing now that it was clear Bucky wasn’t going to force him. “But maybe I could go back and take some classes? I’m sure there’s one or two skills I could pick up.”

“Plumbing?” Bucky asked, the laughter in his voice warm and rich.

Steve shook his head. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Doesn’t sound like something I’d do,” Bucky said, as though considering it carefully. “But, I’m glad you liked it. It’s really lowkey too, no one really bothered you right?”

Steve nodded his agreement. It was true, they’d passed a few people and despite the usual double takes, no one had actually approached them. It wasn’t entirely unusual given New Yorkers’ general determination to never be phased by anything, but it was still nice. And Steve had to admit adding another location he could go that wasn’t the tower or his own building was appealing.

“So, you got stuff you need to get back for?” Bucky asked after a moment, his smile almost shy.

“Not particularly,” Steve admitted, because it was true and Bucky was genuinely his only even vaguely active mission anyway.

“You wanna take the long way back?” Bucky asked. “I feel like this is the first sunshine I’ve seen in ages. It’d be a shame to waste it. You can even buy me an ice cream.”

Steve just laughed and gestured for Bucky to lead the way. It was nice, to be outside with no particular place he needed to be. He could feel Bucky slowly relaxing his posture as they walked along in the sunshine.

“You’re right,” he said, turning his head to Bucky.

“Usually,” Bucky nodded, eyes closed for a moment, tilting his head up to the sun.

Steve watched him and wondered how dark his skin might turn if he spent more time outside. Steve could tan a little, but his Irish roots and now the serum meant he kept a fairly even complexion. But he sensed Bucky would go from pale to golden.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention away. “Ice cream, then?” he said. “Before we lose the sun completely?”

The smile Bucky gave him in response made Steve sway in place for a moment. “I know the perfect place.”

Bucky, true to his word, did find them some of the best ice cream Steve had eaten outside of the Tower. They walked closely, winding a route that took them vaguely towards their building but neither seemed in a rush to get there

It took Steve an embarrassingly long time to remember that he was meant to be using the time to gather intel and tried to think of subtle way to bring up something that would be useful. “What did Jessica Jones want the other day?” he asked, after moment because blunt was really more in keeping with his character and Natasha always told him to lie as little as possible.

“Huh?” Bucky asked, looking away from the dog he’d been watching chasing a squirrel and barking with delight.

“Jessica,” Steve repeated. “You helping her out on a case or something?”

Bucky’s mouth turned down, his lips pressing into a tight line. He shook his head, but the frown that appeared on his face made him look older. Steve tried not to tense in response. It wasn’t like it meant anything. “Nah,” Bucky said, after a moment. “She just wanted me to look at something for her.”

Steve paused, unsure on whether he ought to push, it was clear that Bucky didn’t want to talk about it, his good mood from moments before seemed to have been tempered down under his frown. His shoulders were hunched over, like he was trying to make himself smaller. But then Bucky seemed to shake it off, he carefully righted his posture and his smile crept back across his face. Steve’s feeling of unease grew. 

“She doesn’t usually ask for stuff so it wasn’t like I could really say no,” Bucky said, his tone back to easy. “I keep telling her that if she wants something she could at least introduce me to Luke Cage as repayment, but she just gives me this  _ look _ .” He shook his head in apparent disbelief and grinned at Steve, his eyes sparkling.

“A fan of Luke Cage, huh?” Steve asked, letting his eyebrows climb his forehead at the question.

“Ah, pal, I’d climb that man like a tree.”

An unexpected burst of laughter punched its way out of Steve’s chest. “Bucky!” He couldn’t help the slightly scandalised tone, which was mostly borne out of surprise.

Bucky laughed. “What? Have you seen him? He’s a tall drink of gorgeous.”

Steve shook his head. “Jessica not keen to set you up, then?”

“Nah,” Bucky said, then paused, like he was considering it for a moment. “Pretty sure he doesn’t swing my way, anyway.”

“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.” Steve nodded and laughed when Bucky shoved at him.

He didn’t realise until after they were back at their building and Bucky had bid him goodbye just how well Bucky had distracted him from asking more about what he was doing for Jessica. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Bucky was distracting, that was the point. Hell, it seemed more and more likely that he was designed to be as distracting as possible to Steve. The thought made something cold and hard coil in his stomach. Was it even possible that HYDRA could know he liked men? It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but there were a couple of people back home that knew. It wasn’t impossible. Perhaps it was just a punt. Bucky was sent to be a friend and if there was another route he was briefed to take it. And Steve was letting him. Was letting himself get distracted. Be flattered by the attention.

He was slipping. 

He wasn’t meant to be spending days in the sunshine with Bucky, laughing and having a good time. He wasn’t meant to be exploring his neighbourhood with him.

He needed to up his game. He needed to focus. Train harder. Focus on the mission. If HYDRA was playing a game with him, Steve was at risk of losing. And he couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much of him wanted Bucky not be anything other than what he seemed. The facts were what they were and Steve never got that lucky. He didn’t meet people like Bucky. They didn’t flirt with him. Didn’t fit so seamlessly into his life. It didn’t matter how unfair it felt.

This was his life and people were depending on him not to let them down. 

He needed to try harder.

****

It didn’t surprise him when he woke just under an hour after finally drifting off. His heart was hammering so hard that he felt dizzy for a long moment while he sucked in desperate breaths. He reached for his phone without thinking, hands shaking, but stopped himself just in time. He didn’t want to go to Bucky’s. Or rather that’s all he wanted, but that meant he certainly shouldn’t. He was too vulnerable to be around him. It was a risk.

Instead he left the phone where it was and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. It helped to shake some of the clutches of sleep from him and he shook his head. He considered trying to walk around a little, but there was still the chance he’d bump into Bucky, so instead he went to the kitchen table and sat down. He could work through some of his files. Something productive.

It took a lot longer than he’d care to admit to stop his hands from shaking and for his breathing to even out. But it happened eventually. He didn’t need to see Bucky for that. He was fine on his own.

He was fine.

***

Bucky texted him the next day asking if he wanted to head back to the centre the following day. Steve once again considered saying no, but knew he didn’t have an excuse. So they went and Steve sat at the back of a class Bucky taught about basic electronics. Just rewiring plugs, which Steve knew how to do anyway, but it was soothing. Working with his hands was nice, and seeing the other students beaming as they fixed their belongings was warming.

Natasha texted him on the walk back letting him know that she didn’t have an in with Jessica to ask her about Bucky. In fact it seemed no one really knew her.

_ I can try via Luke Cage but I can’t be sure it won’t get back to Bucky. _

Steve sighed as he pocketed his phone again and tried not to let his irritation show on his face.

Bucky talked animatedly about the class at his side, happily relating information about the students and how they’d progressed. His excitement was usually infectious, but Steve felt off-kilter and unable to connect with anything that Bucky was saying. Every time he tried, he was reminded of the way he’s seen Bucky shut down when talking about Jessica and he was back to feeling angry and confused.

“Steve,” Bucky said, and from the tone and accompanying expression Steve knew it wasn’t the first time he’d said his name. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, shaking his head and trying to smile. “I’m fine. It’s just a work thing.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, “anything I can do?”

Was that a cue for him to tell Bucky details of a mission? Steve shook himself. Bucky wasn’t that sort of a sloppy operator. It was probably just a genuine offer of help. It was what people said.

“Thanks,” Steve said, “but it’s just another dead end and means I’ll be working through the night again trying to find a new one.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, his head dropping to look at the sidewalk and his hands going to his pockets, “that sucks. You up for a film maybe later if you get done?”

“Thanks,” Steve said, “but I think probably not. I need to get some work done. But, another time.”

He watched carefully as Bucky’s face registered disappointment and then quickly shook it off to smile at him. “No worries,” he said, easily, “but don’t work too hard. Even superheroes need a break.”

“We don’t, actually,” Steve said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. “That’s kinda what makes us super.”

Bucky looked a bit taken aback at the tone but he didn’t comment. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I guess so.”

Steve ignored the pang he felt at being rude to Bucky. 

***

Steve didn’t respond to a couple of Bucky’s texts after that, thinking that distance was better until he had a better plan of action. He was finding it too hard to think clearly. He hadn’t slept since the first day they’d gone to the community centre and his eyes felt heavy with grit. The lack of new leads was maddening and with nothing to concentrate on, he was restless while somehow also exhausted.

Sam kept telling him he ought to leave it. Take the excuse of a break to try something else. Like that was possible with a potential HYDRA agent in the building. He paced his apartment, feeling caged and furious after their calls, trying to calm down. It was taking longer and longer to do it and Steve was distantly concerned by that.

He was startled by a knock at his door a few days later. It was dark, nearly ten, and he’d been considering lying down. The thought was both appealing and terrifying at once. He reigned in the sigh he felt building as he opened the door.

“Hi,” Bucky said. He looked up at Steve briefly before ducking his head to hide behind his hair, letting it cover his face. “Look, I’m sorry for interrupting, but I saw the light on.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, still holding the handle. Bucky suddenly being in front of him, real, rather than running endlessly through his thoughts was confusing and he blinked, trying to reconcile the two.

“I just…” Bucky started and looked up briefly again. Gone was his usual confidence and bright smile, replaced with something more fragile and uncertain. “I wanted to apologise?”

The framing of it as a question confused Steve as much as it apparently did Bucky, because they made eye contact for the first time and held it. “Apologise?” Steve asked when Bucky didn’t continue after a moment.

It made him duck his head again. “Yeah, I think I must have pissed you off,” he said. “I don’t wanna… I know you’re busy, but I haven’t heard from you in over a week and usually-” He seemed to cut himself off and darted another look up. He looked so uncomfortable, smaller and hunched, that Steve was moving back from the door before he even thought about it.

“Hey,” he said, “no. Look, come in.” This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all. He couldn’t make Bucky think that he’d done anything wrong. The risk of spooking him was too great. He pulled Bucky inside, who came easily.

“I’m sorry I’ve been off with you,” Steve said, not quite able to meet Bucky’s eye. The words were sincere, that hadn’t been his intent, although he could see how cutting off contact cold-turkey made it seem like it. “I know I’ve been… distant. It’s not anything you’ve done. I’m just… Work is intense.”

“Hey,” Bucky said, hands raised in surrender, “it’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation. I can’t imagine how stressful what you do is. You do whatever you need. I’ll be around if you need me, but I don’t expect anything from you.”

Steve shook his head. He was terrible at this. Natasha was so much better at espionage. But he could try. He took a breath and reached out to grab hold of one of Bucky’s hands to still them. “That’s awful nice of you, Buck,” he said forcing himself to hold eye contact. “But, you really should expect more of me. I expect more of me, and I’ve been rude.”

“You’re not mad?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding unsure but there was a small, hopeful expression starting to bloom across his face. “You sure? I had a whole speech prepared about how I need to be better at learning boundaries if you wanted it.”

Steve didn’t need to fake the smile that tugged his lips up. “No,” he said. “But thank you. Can I take a reign-check on it? Sounds like it might be a useful one to have on hand for my own use.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.” 

Bucky looked at him for a long moment, a look of surprised fondness on his face. His eyes crinkled as he watched Steve, and his whole posture relaxed for a moment. He was very close, suddenly, leaning into Steve’s space. “God,” he breathed, “you’re such a dork.”

His eyes were bluer than Steve had ever seen them, he thought distantly, and then Bucky was leaning forward and kissing him. It was just a soft press of lips, his hand coming up to cup Steve’s face gently, his thumb brushing over his cheek.

Steve jerked back as though burnt. He stared blankly at Bucky as his surprise gave way to an unexpected flood of anger.

He’d only been kissed three times in the years since he’d woken up. And none of those kisses were anything to do with him actually being wanted by the other person. Twice it had been for a mission and then from Sharon as a sort of strange apology/brush off. He felt so overwhelmingly angry that for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

Some of his thoughts must have been playing over his face because Bucky’s expression went from hopeful to horrified in a few seconds. He paled before blushing. “Fuck, I totally misread that, didn’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry.”

Steve should tell him it was fine. He still had a job to do. If Bucky really was trying to get close to him, use the fact that Steve was queer against him in some way, he really should have played along, at least a little. But he couldn’t. Rage was coiling tight in his chest, making his fists curl reflexively into fists.

“I’m gonna,” Bucky stammered, backing hastily towards the door. “I’m sorry, Steve, I can’t believe I misread this so badly. I’m just going to…” He sighed, waiting for a moment, as though hoping Steve might finally speak. But, when the silence dragged on, he ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “I’ll go. Don’t feel like you need to… Don’t worry about speaking to me if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’ll see myself out.”

He was gone before Steve could gather himself enough to reply. The door shut with a soft click, but it still startled Steve out of his stupor.

He felt hot, like his skin was suddenly too tight. He knew, rationally, that someone trying to kill him was worse than pretending to care about him to get information. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt personal in a way that simply shooting at him didn’t. It felt like HYDRA had somehow seen him, seen that he was pathetic and alone. Had thought that sending a pretty brunette would be all it took for him to drop his guard and spill any manner of secrets or maybe even betray his team.

This game Bucky was playing had to end. It was probably all shot to shit anyway, now that he’d reacted so badly to the kiss. But even if it wasn’t, he didn’t think he could bear to be around the other man for another minute without doing something drastic. He needed to find some evidence of what Bucky was really planning.

He’d begun pacing without realising it, his feet taking him over the same few meters of his apartment over and over. There was a chance that Bucky was already destroying any evidence, so he had to act quickly. He needed to wait to until Bucky went out, get into his apartment and have a proper look around. He thought he’d seen enough of the layout to guess where he might be keeping things he wanted kept away from prying eyes.

The first thing he needed was to be able to see right away when Bucky left. He needed a vantage point with clear view lines, as quickly as possible. He was already carefully climbing out of the window in his bedroom and along the wall before he’d had time to consider it fully. Time was the most important factor, being seen was really the last of his problems, although he was hopeful the cover of night would make that pretty unlikely. He knew he’d be able to see into Bucky’s apartment if he was careful, and it wasn’t like hanging on was going to be difficult for him. As long as he kept to the shadows of the balconies, he’d be unseen from the ground or, hopefully, anyone looking out of their own windows.

In the back of his head he could hear the echo of Sam’s voice, telling him to take a moment, to wait it out until he’d calmed down. But, he disregarded it. He needed to act now, or the last few months were for nothing. There was a chance that Bucky would already be wiping the place clean and preparing evac. But if so, at least Steve would catch him at it.

But, when he got in position, he could see Bucky clearly as he paced his own living room. He looked panicked, not that that told Steve much in itself. He looked pale, too, younger than he sometimes looked. He was biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. Steve watched, his head cocked to one side, trying to understand what he was seeing. A HYDRA agent trying to figure out how to tell his superiors he’d failed at his mission? That would explain the terror that seemed to have settled across Bucky’s features. Steve didn’t know the protocol for a failed mission, but he didn’t need to know the details to know it was nothing good. 

Was it possible that if Steve made him an offer, provided protection, Bucky might defect? Steve shook off the thought. No. If he’d been with them this long it would take more than a fake-friendship to turn him. His best option was to capture him for interrogation.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that it could take hours for Bucky to do anything. He was just settling himself in for a long wait, when Bucky disappeared into his bedroom, only to return moments later with his running shoes. Steve let out a breath. Bucky was out the door in a matter of moments and Steve waited five careful minutes before edging over to his window.

He knew, from Bucky’s repeated grumbling, that the windows were easily jimmied, but he didn’t bother with subtlety--the time for that was done. He had probably an hour at best before any chance of catching Bucky and therefore HYDRA at work was gone. He wrenched it open with an only slightly alarming creak of wood and paint. He was through the window and inside Bucky’s now familiar apartment in a few moments.

He paused, gathering his bearings. He knew the layout easily. He’d managed a few covert looks around on his many trips, although they’d all had to be furtive, for fear of being caught. His eidetic memory gave him a head start, about knowing which cupboards he’d already looked through in his quests for coffee and mugs and the like and contained nothing out of the ordinary.

His search started off fairly standard, following the rules that Natasha had showed him. He focused on the places mostly likely to hold useful information and he found Bucky’s passport and other personal documents easily. He flipped through the passport to find that it hadn’t been used in over two years. He found some cash, less than 500 dollars. And then nothing. There was nothing. No notes. No recording devices. No additional phones or chargers for them. Just a laptop, which he knew the password for because Bucky never made any attempt to hide it as he typed it in. There was nothing on there that Steve could see easily. He left it to one side, as it was possible that Tony might find something he hadn’t.

He continued the search, expanding from the places that incriminating evidence tended to be to places it only sometimes was. To places that he’d only ever found anything once in other searches. To everywhere else. Somewhere along the way, as Steve’s heart rate continued to climb, he stopped being careful with his clean up. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like Bucky was going to be hanging around, and finding the evidence was the most important thing.

He was in the bedroom, pulling out shoeboxes from the closet when his heart leapt. The second to last one didn’t contain shoes. It was too light, weighted wrong. He tore off the lid, expecting… he wasn’t sure. Forged documents perhaps. A burner phone. But not photos.

Bucky’s smiling face, tanned and a slightly rounder like he hadn’t burnt off all his puppy-fat, arm around another man. They were in the desert, sand dunes rising around them and scarves wrapped around their heads. He lifted it out to find other pictures, all clearly from Bucky’s time in the army, and some cards. Mostly they seemed to be from Bucky’s family from while he was overseas. They didn’t contain any secret messages that Steve could discern.

And then nothing else.

He was staring down at the now empty box, a terror that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge was starting to claw at his throat.

“What the fuck?”

Steve whirled around, the box still in his hand, heart leaping to his throat. Bucky was standing motionless in the doorway behind him, arms above his head as they brandished a baseball bat, a look of utter shock on his face.

“Steve?” he said, his voice was wavering, confusion making his brow furrow. “What’s going on? Did someone break in?”

With no idea how to respond, Steve could only stare back at him. The haze from moments before cleared startlingly quickly, but he couldn’t seem to shake himself into action.

“Did  _ you  _ break in?” Bucky asked. Steve could see the way his chest was starting to rise and fall more rapidly the longer Steve didn’t respond. “What are you looking for?”

Steve swallowed heavily. There was nothing for it. No point trying to keep up any pretence. Perhaps, the last vestige of hope suggested, Bucky might finally reveal his true intentions if confronted. “You were captured by HYDRA,” Steve said, his voice sounded strange. Hoarse, like he’d been shouting for hours.

“What?” Bucky said, his eyes narrowing.

“In the army,” he said, “it’s how you lost your arm. I know because Tony told me. And then you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D; one of their top operatives for years. I know because Natasha told me. And then there you were. Living in my apartment building. Turning up whenever I was… Trying to get closer to me.”

“My God,” Bucky breathed, his face somehow losing its last remaining colour. “You think I’m HYDRA.”

Ironically it was that moment that Steve knew, categorically, that he wasn’t. A gaping chasm seemed to have opened under his feet. There was a roaring in his ears and he felt cold all over. “You never told me about S.H.I.E.L.D,” he said, surprised by how solid his voice came out, “you never told me about any of it. How could I just…”

“Did it never occur to you to just ask?” Bucky looked furious, anger starting to replace the fear still hanging at the edges of his voice as he spoke. “You just broke into my apartment to, what? Catch me in my evildoings?”

Steve was so far in the wrong the line wasn’t even visible anymore, serum or not. But, that didn’t stop annoyance flaring. “Excuse me if I don’t trust easy after living through HYDRA twice and it’s not like you’ve been entirely honest with me, Bucky.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky spat, he threw the bat to the floor with a grimace as he spoke. Steve held back his flinch at the word and the clatter of wood against wood. “We’ve all been through shit. You don’t get to just decide to invade someone’s home like this. What about what I’ve been through? Did you think about that?”

They both knew the answer to that, so Steve didn’t say anything. He could feel himself deflating, as Bucky spoke, the anger draining from him to be replaced by hot shame.

“It wasn’t like I was hiding having been in the army, and then with S.H.I.E.L.D, none of us are exactly proud of finding out that we’d accidentally been working for Nazis, why would I bring it up? Besides, I figured you knew, you were practically running the place.” He threw his hands up and turned away from him, shaking his head, before looking back. “I just-” He gestured vaguely, clearly unsure how to finish his sentence. “What the fuck have I ever done to you, other than try to be your friend?”

Steve could see, now, despite the darkness of the room, that Bucky didn’t just look angry, he looked hurt and confused too. Something tight and uncomfortable clenched in his chest.

Bucky continued to stare at him, like he was searching for something. “Fuck, I get that I shouldn’t have kissed you but that’s doesn’t mean I’m a fucking… agent for HYDRA. They - Steve - they  _ tortured  _ me. For  _ months _ . They took my arm. They…” He shook his head, eyes filling suddenly with tears. “And then I was working for them and I didn’t even know it. I- I killed for them, and now you think I could…” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe his own words. “You know me. We’ve spent months together. How could you think I would ever do that?”

“I had to know,” Steve said, his voice low, hardly above a whisper. “I wanted to believe, but I just…”

“Get out,” Bucky said, suddenly. His shoulders had dropped, like he couldn’t even be angry any more. “Just fuck off, unless there’s something else you want to look through? I got a diary that you might want to read from when I was 15.”

“Bucky, I-” He wasn’t about to apologise, knew that it would be more of an insult to do it now, when it was much too late, but he needed to take the look of betrayal from the other man’s face.

“Go,” Bucky said, softly, looking at the floor, “please.”

The plea was what broke Steve’s resolve. He deflated before turning away. The walk out of Bucky’s apartment seemed to take years. The chaos of his fruitless search of the flat was so stark that he wanted to close his eyes. Instead he ducked his head and tried to walk as quickly as he could, pulling the door softly closed behind him. 

Steve didn’t remember getting back to his apartment, but suddenly he was in his bedroom, staring blankly at the walls. He balled his hands into fists to keep the shake out of them.

He knew, dimly, that he ought to be planning. That there must be a strategy that could fix this. He’d been wrong. It wasn’t the first time. He just needed to regroup. Maybe if he just found the right words, he could explain things. It was just a matter of coming up with the right plan. His heart was pounding, his body nearly vibrating with adrenaline.

He sat down on his bed very deliberately, keeping himself perfectly still, trying to think it through. He pushed down the terror that still seemed to want to claw right out of his chest.

Bucky was owed an explanation to start with. Steve was in the wrong, but he had his reasons. If Bucky understood where he was coming from, then maybe he could find a way to make it better and then it would be like it hadn’t happened. His judgement was off, but if he could fix it, then maybe it didn’t even matter. He just needed to sort out the problem. He could focus on that and not think about the implications of what had just happened.

He waited until the sun was up, waited until Bucky would have had some time to calm down before he pulled himself up and back to Bucky’s front door. His hand didn’t shake as he raised it to knock. He kept it still through sheer force of will. He could fix it. He  _ would  _ fix it. 

Bucky looked terrible when he opened the door. His eyes were dark, his skin pale and almost sickly. He didn’t seem surprised to see Steve, his face didn’t register any expression at all. It was a startling contrast to his usual demeanour, so full of life, that Steve was caught momentarily off-guard. He blinked, trying to regroup. The words that he’d been rehearsing in his head skittered away and he was left staring blankly at the reality of his actions.

“I’m sorry,” he managed after a moment, squaring his shoulders. “What I did, that was… I messed up, I get that. I just couldn’t believe-” He paused. Realising belatedly that it probably wasn’t fair to lay it all on Bucky. He shouldn’t have to shoulder all of Steve’s neurosis. But then, he did deserve to know the truth, deserved to know that it wasn’t anything he’d done. “Good things don’t happen to me, Bucky.”

The other man looked at him, his expression unreadable, but he’d started now and he wasn’t going to back down.

“If I meet someone I like, it usually turns out that they’ve been spying on me and that I’ve actually been working for Nazis for years. So then I have to bring down a Government and get them fired and ruin their entire life in the process. Or I get one kiss before I have to crash a plane into the Arctic and wake up seventy years too late to do anything else. I’m not-” He sighed, so tired suddenly that he had to drag the words up painfully from his chest. “I misread what I was feeling. It wasn’t you doing anything wrong. It was me. I’m sorry. I broke your trust and I have no excuses, but I am sorry.”

“Right,” Bucky said, his stare still cold and distant. “Is that all?”

Stumped for a moment, Steve opened his mouth to speak before closing it again when he realised he had no idea what to say. “I just wanted to apologise,” he managed eventually.

“Well, you can stick that up your fucking ass,” Bucky said, although without any real heat. “You lied to me. Pretended to be my friend. Spied on me. Told all your superhero friends that I worked for HYDRA so they could spy on me and then you broke into my apartment.”

Desperation rose in his chest. He had to make him understand. “Bucky, I’m so-” The door closed in his face cutting off both the end of his apology and hope that he might be able to make the other man understand.

Steve was left standing in the hallway with the realisation that he was out of options. Bucky wasn’t HYDRA. Bucky had been… Steve’s stomach swooped alarmingly for a moment. He’d been Steve’s friend. Perhaps he’d even wanted to be more. All the moments they’d shared had been genuine moments of connection that Steve hadn’t felt with anyone in so long, probably not since Peggy. And it was gone.

He turned on his heel and walked slowly, deliberately, back to his apartment. He fumbled his phone from where it was resting on his nightstand and sat down on his bed. 

It rang twice before Sam picked up.

“Sam,” Steve’s voice broke in a way that might have been embarrassing if he’d had the energy to care.

“Steve?” Sam’s voice was sharp, already on alert. “What happened? You okay?”

He took a breath, unable to stop the humourless puff of air escaping. “No,” he said. “I think.” He swallowed heavily. “I really don’t think I am.”

“Where are you?” Sam seemed to know, because of course he did, that Steve wasn’t in physical danger. There was urgency in his voice, but none of the battle-ready sharpness that meant he was about to suit up. “You at home? I’m on my way.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “yeah, I’m at home. Thanks.”

He didn’t know how much later it was that Sam found him, still in the same position. He must have let himself in, Steve thought dimly as the other man sat down silently next to him.

“He wasn’t HYDRA,” Steve said. He wasn’t a coward and there was no use in trying to mask his mistakes. Better to lay it out bare and accept the consequences.

Sam didn’t ask who, just stilled for a moment. “You sure?”

Steve nodded just once. “I searched his apartment and it was clean. But… But, I just know.”

“Steve,” Sam’s voice was very calm, the type of calm that only came when it was being forced into someone’s voice with great will, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He wanted to turn his head, to at least look at Sam when he spoke, but he didn’t. There was a limit to his bravery it turned out. “I was wrong, Sam,” he said. “I misread all the signs, I let my,” he paused, swallowing thickly, “my personal feelings cloud my judgement. He’s just a veteran. A good man, and he was trying to help me and I-” He voice gave out, cutting him off before any other words escaped. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue, “He found me searching his apartment.”

There was mostly stifled intake of breath next to him. “We gotta worry about the police or anything?”

Steve shook his head.

There was another long pause. “I’m going to level with you here, Steve,” Sam said, that calm still in place. “You’re kind of worrying me. You sure you’re not hurt? Nothing happened?”

“He kissed me,” Steve said, his hands flexing unexpectedly where they rested on his knees. “That’s why I- I couldn’t leave it any longer to check. But…”

“Ah, geez,” Sam said, understanding colouring his voice. “I’m sorry, man.”

That made Steve turn his head, surprised at the compassion. His confusion must have shown because Sam continued without prompting.

“I thought that… I wondered if that might happen, I should have said something sooner, before we ended up in this mess-”

“No, Sam,” Steve cut in, “you don’t understand. This isn’t about- It’s not about me losing him. I can’t-” He faltered for another moment, licked his lips and balled his hands into tight fists. “I can’t go on like this.”

Sam froze in place for a moment, fear rippling over his face before he was able to control it. “What do you mean?”

“I’m compromised,” Steve said. “I… I should have seen this a mile away. I missed a dozen signs, I’ve not been sleeping and… I’m not safe in the field.” The words, now they were coming didn’t seem to want to stop, but each one made his heartrate climb higher. “I can’t- We have to-”

“Hey,” Sam put his hand out, resting gently on Steve’s hand. “I need you to take a breath. We’re okay. We’re going to work it out. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay?”

Steve shook his head. “I think,” he said, before shaking his head. “Sam, I think I need to stop.”

There was a beat of silence before Sam spoke. “Well,” he said, and Steve could see he was trying to smile, lighten the mood, “I think we’re all out of leads here, so a break makes sense.”

“No,” Steve said. “I mean, everything. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore.”

He could tell when Sam understood by the way he stilled completely for a long moment. But this was Sam, so he gathered himself quickly and squeezed Steve’s hand gently again. “Okay,” he said, voice gentle and sure. “Okay, Steve. Let’s figure this out together, alright? You just tell me what you need.”

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Steve didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any answers at all, but Sam didn’t leave. He sat solid and steadfast by Steve until the sun was starting to sink. Then he left to make some calls, probably to Tony and Nat. He left Steve with instructions to try and sleep, despite them clearly both knowing it wouldn’t happen.

Steve lay back on the bed staring at the ceiling for a long time until Sam came back into the room. He spoke quietly, efficiently, saying that Tony and Nat were picking up everything for now. Steve wouldn’t be needed for the foreseeable future. Bruce, or Vision or Wanda could be called if back was needed.

“Just rest for now,” Sam said. “I’m gonna head out for a bit. Pick you up some food and things and come back in the morning. You going to be okay?”

Steve nodded to the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam said, voice firm. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Will you be okay if I leave? You feeling like maybe you shouldn’t be left alone? I can stay, it’s cool. I’ll just catch up on some Netflix and eat the last of your junk food.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself, Sam,” Steve said, keeping his voice as level as he could. “I’m just… I’m tired.”

Sam let out a long, slow breath. “Okay, good.” Steve wasn’t sure if he should feel something about the fact that Sam didn’t pretend that wasn’t what he’d meant. “I’ll be back later and we’ll hang out. And Steve?”

Steve turned his head, meeting Sam’s gaze. “Remember what we talked about? This isn’t all on you, right? We all missed the signs. We didn’t have your back when we should have, and I’m sorry about that. But, it’s going to change starting now. I can promise that.”

“Thank you, Sam.” The words caught embarrassingly in his throat and he turned away again quickly, waiting for the door to click shut behind the other man. He let out a slow breath when it did, wishing it eased the tightness in chest even a little.

***

The reality of what had happened was slow to sink in. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Steve was dimly grateful for the numbness because he suspected otherwise what was happening would be a lot more painful.

He expected to miss the work. To miss the sense of purpose. But he didn’t, not exactly. It didn’t take him long to realise that he hadn’t had that before, either. It did throw into relief how little was left without the work, though. That also wasn’t news. That didn’t make it less depressing, or less shameful, however.

Bucky had been a bright spot. He’d known that too, before; it had been part of the reason it had worried him so much. But it was clearer with hindsight. How Bucky had seemed to be in colour while everything else was murky grey around him. It stung, to think that he wouldn’t get the chance to explore it properly. To truly appreciate their time together. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it. He owed it to Bucky to try, at least. If it was motivation he needed to sort out the mess he’d made of his new life, he now had it in spades.

Unfortunately, what that seemed to mean was that he slept. All day, sometimes. Where before he hadn’t wanted to go to bed at all, now he never wanted to get up. It was surprisingly easy to spend the day in bed, watching the shadows change and play over the walls. And he was so tired. Like he hadn’t slept since he went into the ice. Or before. Since before the serum maybe.

He knew it couldn’t last, that he’d have to get out of bed eventually. He remembered Bucky’s advice, the small goals he ought to set for himself and slowly it started to get easier to pull himself from the sheets. Sam and Nat came round sometimes to encourage or bully him into it as needed. They fixed his TV so they could sit around his apartment bickering with each other good naturedly about what to watch. 

They were very careful not to treat Steve differently. They didn’t talk about work. They didn’t mention Bucky. Mostly Steve just existed around them. He watched what they put on the TV, not taking anything in, but appreciating that they were with him. There wasn’t any discussion about the future. They didn’t push him on his plans. Not that he had any. He didn’t want any, either. The realisation that he wasn’t safe in the field was as far as he got with any sort of planning. Everything after that became very narrow. Get up. Eat. try and concentrate long enough to make an appropriate amount of conversation with Sam and Natasha. The rest of the world seemed very distant. His friends seemed determined that it stayed that way, for which Steve was grateful. 

The mess with Bucky was a shameful, writhing, thing in his stomach whenever he thought about it. Looking back he could see all the warning signs he’d ignored, and how selfish he’d been to do it. Basic army training meant that you didn’t hide your injuries. A team was exactly as strong as its weakest link. He was lucky that he hadn’t gotten the team physically hurt, hadn’t called any big decisions that got someone killed. The fact he’d entirely messed up his own life was getting off light compared to hurting other people. It still woke him at night, a hot ache in his stomach that wouldn’t shift no matter what he did. He supposed knowing there wasn’t a way to fix it didn’t help. All he could do was make sure it didn’t happen again. And he would. He just wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.

Sam was careful with him, Steve could tell that he was keeping words bottle up behind his calm expression. Perhaps he wasn’t sure how to approach it or how Steve would react. In the end Steve took pity on him and brought it up first.

“When I first came out of the ice,” Steve said slowly, his voice surprisingly calm, “people were so careful around me.”

Sam turned to him, surprise clear on his face.

“Like they were waiting for me to freak out,” Steve clarified.

Understanding settled over Sam’s face and he nodded.

Steve looked away from him, knowing it would be easier to say what he had to when he couldn’t see the other man’s eyes. “But, I didn’t,” he started, probably unnecessarily. “At first I guess I just couldn’t believe what was happening. This century is loud,” Sam let out a soft huff of laughter at his side and Steve’s mouth curved, “and I guess I just… never thought much about what it meant. I knew, intellectually, that everyone I’d ever known was gone. But, then, when I was in the war I never much expected to see them again anyway. Even with Peggy- she seemed like a dream even then.” He paused to smile sadly. “A good one. But still a dream and so her being gone, it sort of made sense. And then… aliens attacked New York. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. kept me so busy that I didn’t think at all. I was away most of the time and training when I wasn’t. Then Ultron. Then the accords. It just never stopped.”

He balled his hands in his lap, watching as the knuckles turned white. “I knew,” he stopped, wanting to be honest, “I guess I suspected at least, that I wasn’t alright. I should have realised that you can’t just walk off losing everything you’ve ever known three times in the space of a couple of years. But I thought if I could just get through the next thing, if I kept on going, maybe I could-”

“Hey,” Sam said, voice gentle but firm. Steve suspected that he wanted to reach out and touch him and was thankful that he didn’t. “Look, I don’t want you to think that anyone judges you for this, Steve. This happens all the time. Soldiers are trained to keep going, and you’re the best there is. Shit, man, we should have known how bad things were for you. You lost your support systems and I did a piss-poor job of getting you the help I should have known you really needed.”

“No,” Steve said, turning to look at Sam, “come on. You tried. I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “but I didn’t want to believe it.” Steve frowned but Sam continued, his face sad but determined. “When we first met, I saw another vet, you know? Well, actually I thought you were trying to pick me up.” He grinned, and Steve ducked his head, hoping his face wasn’t too obviously red. “But then I saw a guy who might need some help. And you came to the VA and thought…” He shook his head. “But I dropped the ball. The moment you put on the suit and took down those helicarries, I started to see Cap and not Steve. You’re amazing, you know? Never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen some shit.”His voice was so sincere that Steve’s insides turned hot and he had to fight not to recoil. “Seeing you out in the field, it’s hard to remember that you’re just a man under that. You’re my best friend and I let you down.”

Steve wanted to deny it. He hadn’t meant to make Sam feel bad. That was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do. But he also didn’t want to fight with him. He appreciated the honesty and he knew Sam was telling him the truth. Afterall, Sam was describing exactly what Steve wanted people to see. He’d been hiding behind Captain America and everything he represented for so long that he didn’t know how to be anything else. He couldn’t blame people for only seeing what he wanted them to.

“Thanks Sam,” he said instead of the hundreds of other things he wanted to. His chest hurt with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words to properly express. “I just want you to know that I really do want to get better. I want-” He shook his head. It was too soon to even know for sure what he wanted long term. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sam smiled again, lopsided and still a little sad. “I know, but that’s what we’re here for. We’ll help you figure it out.”

“There’s a lot to-” He stopped, the words failing him. “Okay,” he managed. “Better get started, then.”

Sam laughed. “Steady there, man,” he said. “We got pizza on the way. All we gotta worry about for now is eating that and finishing the Harry Potter films. We’ll work out something after that.”

Steve sagged in relief. He was lucky, he knew, so lucky that he had Sam. He probably didn’t deserve him, but he could perhaps start to earn it.

***

Bruce came by sometimes too. He’d never visited Steve before and looked out of place in his apartment, hunched and unsure. Although, Steve supposed that was how Bruce looked almost everywhere. He wasn’t interested in watching TV. He wanted to make Steve green smoothies and offered to meditate with him. Steve liked that, actually: the quietness of their moments together. Neither of them were good with words but it was nice to have his show of support. It made him deeply fond of the other man. He left some books on meditation, apparently it could help with anxiety and sleeping. Steve was sceptical, but then if it had helped Bruce learn to live with the Hulk, he wasn’t going to dismiss it entirely.

Tony came once, bringing with him a list of personally approved professionals that Steve could apparently call. It was printed on real paper, because Tony somehow knew Steve had never opened Sam’s email. He sat on Steve’s couch and spoke stiffly about panic attacks and something only hinted at about his childhood and how talking helped a bit. Steve put the sheet of paper next to the card Bucky had stuck on his fridge. Soon, he told himself. He’d think about it properly. He just wanted a little more time.

Then Tony fiddled with Steve’s TV for a long time until he announced that he’d never need to pay for another movie, show or streaming service again. “It’s connected to my personal library and that has everything, and it updates everyday so…” He trailed off, gesturing. “You won’t be bored at least. Well, not because there’s nothing on the TV anyway. Right,” he said, seeming to realise he was on the verge of rambling and forcibly stopping himself. “I better get going, lots to do.”

“Thanks Tony,” Steve said. He felt trapped somewhere between embarrassed that Tony was making a fuss and deeply touched. He knew how hard it was for Tony to admit weakness, especially in front of him. It had never occurred to Steve that they might have so much in common. Trauma might affect them differently, but they certainly had a shared amount. Perhaps if they’d had this conversation a year ago the mess with the accords wouldn’t have happened. “I mean it, you didn’t have to do this, but… It means a lot.”

Tony paused from where he was starting to turn away, hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach out. “Get better, C- Steve,” he said. “We miss you at the Tower. Come by for dinner, Pepper said she’ll order something we’ll both even like.”

Steve smiled, feeling exhausted by his presence, but no less touched and pleased that he’d tried. “Thanks, Tony,” he said. “I’m really fine. I just burnt out, is all. Give me a little while and I’ll be back.”

It sounded more like a lie than he’d meant it to, but Tony had the grace to just nod along before offering a little salute in parting.

***

And so, slowly Steve began to establish a new routine. He avoided anything that felt too connected to being Captain America. He walked, rather than jogged, tried yoga rather than his normal training. He read, slowly, painfully slowly. It was like awakening muscles he hadn’t used in years. At first he was only able to read a few sentences before he had to stand, pace the room for a few moments before forcing himself to sit back down. But it was something to focus on. Something that wasn’t the guilt of sitting idly by while his friends picked up the slack. It wasn’t thinking about Bucky. About his eyes and his smile. About the way he’d laughed when Steve said something funny. That was worse than thinking about the job. A similar ache, in a way, to thinking about Peggy. Only without the softness of other memories to temper it.

He didn’t see Bucky. Partly because he tried not to linger in the building, and mostly he suspected, because Bucky made sure of it. He hoped that the other man found it easier that way. Tony had offered to find him a new apartment right away, and the offer was very tempting. He would be running away, but it was probably only fair on Bucky that he did. Sam ended up talking him out of it, suggesting that keeping the amount of things he was changing to as small a number as possible was better. He could see the logic in it, even if it made him so frustrated at his limitations he wanted to scream.

***

He still woke at night. There wasn’t an option that stopped that from happening, drugs wouldn’t have worked even if someone had wanted to prescribe them. He resisted the urge to walk around the building, trying to read or, once or twice, opening a sketch pad instead.

It was inevitable that it wouldn’t last, he knew. Eventually he was always going to find himself back at the door to the roof. The itch to go there was stronger than even the urge to go to Bucky’s and sit on his couch and watch movies. He missed the quiet of seeing the city at night, the cool of the air. He managed to keep away for over a month. Sam would tell him to be proud of himself for trying, even though they both knew that it would make Steve roll his eyes.

The key was warm where Steve clutched it in his hand. He tried the lock, half expecting the key to no longer work, but it turned as easily as ever. He breathed deeply when the cool air hit him outside, feeling more relaxed at once. He walked to his usual spot, breathing steadily. 

It took a long time before the loneliness crept over him. If he concentrated, he could remember what it felt like to have Bucky’s solid presence at his side. He could remember how it felt knowing he could choose to speak or not, and both would be welcome.

He was so wrapped up in the memory of it that he startled when someone spoke from just behind him.

“Sam came by,” Bucky said, his voice harder than Steve had ever heard it when he wasn’t shouting. Steve hadn’t heard the door open or his approach. It should have alarmed him, but apparently relaxing enough to not notice these things was a progress of a sort, or so Sam told him. He tried to will himself not to care about it.

Steve nodded, dropping his gaze to the ground. He knew Sam had been planning on it, wanting to clean up some of Steve’s mess. It made him hot and ashamed all over again, but he didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything to say.

The silence stretched on for a long moment. There wasn’t anything to say, and really, Steve knew he was the one intruding on Bucky’s space. This was where he came to unwind, he’d invited Steve out of kindness and it wasn’t right that he was there now. He ought to leave, was gathering himself to do so, when Bucky spoke again. 

“When I got back from being captured,” he said, his voice low, none of the usual intonation that Steve was used to hearing. “I didn’t… It was like I’d died or something. I came back, but I didn’t. Not the  _ me  _ part of me. Like my body was still walking around but there was nothing else there. That probably doesn’t make sense, but I found it hard to, I dunno, connect to people.”

Steve’s heart was pounding. Bucky might as well have been describing what it felt like when he came out of the ice. He didn’t speak, couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. But Bucky was still talking and there was nothing that would have made Steve interrupt him.

“Before I left, I got on with everyone, you know? Dates every week, lots of friends and my family was around all the time. But after? I didn’t get out of bed for a month and then I just… couldn’t do it anymore. Then it didn’t matter because I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. almost right away. It felt like I was useful at least, like I was making a difference, and they were more than happy for me to focus just on the mission. Didn’t need to be a person to do that. Then someone went and literally set fire to that life plan.” He smiled, a ghost of one at least, curving up his lips. “And then I was… free? I realised that I didn’t have to do that anymore. I didn’t have to fight anymore. I could start again.” He shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “I guess I wanted to see if I could go back to being that guy that everyone seemed to like before. So I moved here, where no one knew me, and just did what he - the old me - would have done. It was like being on a mission at first, trying to think about what he’d do and forcing myself do that.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked sad and tired. Older than Steve had ever seen him. It made his chest ache and he desperately wanted to say something to take the haunted look from his eyes. But the words wouldn’t come, stuck in his throat, painful and solid, even as he tried to swallow past them. 

After a moment, Bucky spoke again, his tone more wistful. “I liked being him, liked being…” He sighed and looked away. “It felt good to be someone that carefree again.”

“Bucky,” Steve started, the words finally breaking free from his chest, “you don’t need to-”

“I didn’t lie,” Bucky cut him off, his voice sharp. “Everything I told you about my past, how I felt… None of that was a lie. I didn’t even know it was HYDRA that had me until after the data dump. I’ve told you stuff that I’ve never said out loud before, and I did three years of pretty intensive therapy. But, I guess you were still seeing through me, which is actually my biggest fear, so kudos to you for that.”

Steve felt himself cringe. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Bucky held up his hand to cut him off again. “No, what you did was beyond shitty, I’m still furious about that, don’t worry. But, what I’m trying to say is that you’re not nuts or anything. You probably were picking up something off about me. It just turns out you have less than zero social skills and don’t know how to handle someone having a crush on you. Which, frankly,” he said, waving his hand at Steve, “is ridiculous. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come on so strong, I just thought you needed a friend.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “Which sounds so fucking stupid now I’m saying it out loud. As if Captain America needs a one-armed vet who can’t keep a job down for more than a month and is too scared to adopt a stray kitten in case he accidently kills it.”

If anything, Steve felt even worse. Bucky was so good. He couldn’t believe he was trying to make Steve feel better about how badly he’d messed up. “I don’t deserve for you to try and make me feel better about any of this, but I really appreciate you doing it.”

“No,” he said, with a sigh, “you probably don’t. But, you do deserve…” He shrugged and closed his mouth tightly for a moment, like he was biting down on what he actually wanted to say. “You don’t deserve to think you’d gone completely crazy. I do understand how doing your job would make you paranoid. I get that being famous and…” he trailed off and gestured at him again, “looking like you do, means that you end up questioning what people want from you. So, you handled it like a jackass, but it makes sense.”

Steve could only nod. “Thank you, Bucky, seriously. That means…” He had to stop when his voice hitched embarrassingly, he took a slow breath and swallowed heavily before he carried on. “That means a lot to me.”

“Great,” Bucky said, turning slightly, like he was preparing to leave. “Well, that was all I wanted to say. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“No, wait,” Steve said, his own desperation embarrassingly obvious as he clambered up after Bucky. “Don’t- I just-”

Bucky stopped and turned back to face him expectantly. For a moment Steve froze, pinned by his eyes. He honestly hadn’t expected Bucky to ever speak to him again. He knew, instinctively, that he shouldn’t press, that he should be grateful that Bucky thought him worth the explanation. But, Steve was nothing if not selfish, nothing if not impulsive, with no clue when to stop pushing. So, instead of letting Bucky go, letting them part on at least less heated terms, he said, “Can I see you again?”

A surprised puff of air left Bucky’s lips, his mouth curling up in mocking surprise. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” Steve said, standing straighter. “I know, I really know, that I don’t deserve it. But, you’re right. I do need a friend. And I like you. I really…” He cut himself off. It wasn’t fair to put too much pressure on him. “I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

Bucky looked like he was going to say no, and Steve straightened his spine, squared his jaw, preparing for the rejection. But, instead Bucky deflated slowly. “I’m trying to do up the community garden out the back of the building,” he said instead, sounding like he thought it was a bad idea even as he said the words. “I’m going to be working on them on Sundays, from noon ‘til four. I guess I could use some help with the manual labour.” He shrugged a shoulder, his eyes narrowed in something like a challenge.

Steve couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. “Okay,” he said, his voice a bit too breathless to read as anything other than as relieved as he felt.

“Don’t,” Bucky started, his voice sharp, before he let out another slow breath. “I’m not promising anything, Steve, I mean it. But, come, it would mean a lot to the people here if you were there.”

There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t pick just one thing so instead he nodded his head. “Okay, I understand, thank you, Bucky.”

He thought, hoped, for a moment that Bucky would say something else but instead he gave Steve another short look and turned away. He couldn’t stop himself from watching as Bucky walked away.

***

The garden turned out to not actually be a garden, Steve found when he arrived just before noon the following Sunday. He hadn’t put much thought into it, had actively tried  _ not  _ to think about it before he arrived. He was trying to work on not fixating on issues he needed to solve. He’d been trying lately to replace focusing on bigger problems (Hydra, Bucky, AIM) with a series of much smaller ones (unblocking the sink, finishing a book, vacuuming). He approached them all with a singular focus. Maybe that was okay, he wasn’t sure, and he still hadn’t called any of the numbers on his fridge to check. But he did at least feel a lot more satisfied. The smaller jobs were much easier to finish and they mostly seemed unending, so it didn’t give him much chance to worry about the wider world.

But it meant he was surprised when he arrived at the small strip of scrubland out the back of the building. It was three blocks of patchy grass intercut with paths leading to the garbage. He was staring at it, wondering if it could really qualify as a ‘garden’ when he felt someone approaching. He spun around and sure enough, Bucky was walking towards him. Even from a distance and with the sun at his back, it was clear that he was frowning. Every line of his posture radiated that he wasn’t sure he wanted to even be there.

Steve very carefully didn’t let himself react. He knew Bucky probably hated the sight of him. It was fair. Steve didn’t expect anything other than an opportunity to prove that he wasn’t a total asshat. Not that he liked his chances.

“Hi,” Steve said, forcing his hand not to do the little wave that it wanted to do.

Bucky stopped walking a few meters away from him. It was only then that Steve realised how easily the other man had invaded his personal space before, how easy that contact had felt. “Steve,” Bucky said, his voice hard, awkward.

They stared at each other for a moment until it became clear that Bucky had no intention of making it easy for Steve. “So,” Steve said, breaking the silence and trying to sound upbeat, “what did you want to work on?”

There was a moment that felt like it lasted years, but was probably less than five seconds, where Steve thought Bucky wasn’t going to say anything. That he was going to just turn around and leave again. But eventually he lifted one shoulder and gestured to one side of the garden. “I don’t have a master plan, really. I guess I was hoping to get something started. Eventually get some of the kids from the building involved, the older people too, so they can own it together. But, I don’t know what’s even possible out here. It might be that we’d need raised beds to actually grow anything other than grass anyway. So, I wanted to see what’s under one of these lawns to start with, see if there’s any soil and how far down it goes.”

Steve watched as he talked, and his heart contracted painfully. Bucky was wearing sweats and a tight sweater, his hair in a bun as the nape of his neck. Steve couldn’t seem to stop looking at him, like he was getting his first drink after weeks of thirst. It was ridiculous. It was so clear, now, how much he wanted Bucky. How attractive the other man was. And he now couldn’t do anything about it. Not that it was just how he looked, although for some reason it felt like Steve was only just now noticing how handsome he actually was. It was everything else. Bucky was giving up his Sunday to the idea that maybe he could create a community garden.

He realised abruptly that Bucky was staring at him and was probably waiting for a response. “Do you have a spade?” he asked, thankfully having managed to hold onto the main gist of what he was being told.

In response, Bucky held out his empty hands.

“Right,” Steve said. “Why don’t I go get one and meet you back here. You can… survey the ground.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment.

Steve tried not to run back to his apartment to grab his wallet and then to the local store, although his walk might be strictly classified as a jog. By the time he was back, Bucky was no longer alone. Two older men had joined him. Steve didn’t recognise them, but they seemed to know Bucky and were talking animatedly about something as Steve approached.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless and hopeful out loud as he did in his head.

The three men turned to him as he arrived and looked as one at the spade in his hand. The oldest man, white-haired and stern looking frowned.

“That ain’t gonna turn this soil,” he said. “You seen how compacted it is?”

Steve let one side of his mouth turn up. “I’m pretty determined.”

There was a pause where both men looked at him and seemed to realise that they didn’t just recognise him from living in their building.

“Damn,” the slightly younger, dark-skinned man said, turning to Bucky, “you got a super hero helping you out? What do you need us for?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened in something that seemed like annoyance. “He doesn’t know anything about gardening.”

“I’m really just here for the grunt work,” Steve said, trying to smile through Bucky’s obvious annoyance. “Bucky’s running the show.”

The two men shrugged and looked to Bucky again. The other man flicked his gaze to Steve and the over to the lawn in front of them, before nodding at it. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

It didn’t take Steve long to find the very shallow base of soil, where it met concrete. The three other men watched him work, talking amongst themselves and then bending down survey the findings. Steve stood to the side, only feeling vaguely awkward, while they argued amongst themselves about what they ought to do next.

The discussion went on for a few minutes before it was decided that there wasn’t much chance of planting anything other than grass. Bucky sighed. “We’ll need to make raised beds,” he said. “Maybe we can have a fundraiser, see if we can get the funds for materials. Maybe even some for the first plants.”

The younger of the other two men, Jacob, Steve had learned, nodded. “Might be that we can ask what people actually want to use the land for.”

“I could,” Steve started and faltered when Bucky’s cold gaze snapped to him, “I could cover the costs of the first few beds. Just to get you started.”

Jacob and Marvin looked pleased and were both nodding before Bucky spoke. “No,” he said. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want-”

“Bucky, this isn’t about-” Steve cut himself off because he didn’t want to outright lie. But, he really did think the garden was a good idea. “I just think that if you want people to donate you need to show them something. They need to see the potential.”

“He’s not wrong,” Marvin said, “I don’t much care to know what all the tension out here today’s about, but if Captain America wants to give us some beds for our community garden I don’t see why we ought to stop him.”

Steve stared at Bucky, unwilling to keep pushing. There was no point in potentially antagonising him further. Bucky glared for another long moment before huffing. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll put together some designs and a list of materials.”

A smile bloomed across Steve’s face, which only seemed to annoy Bucky who looked pointedly away from him back to the other men. “You reckon I could run it by you both before we get anything?”

Jacob looked between Steve and Bucky for a moment, like he was going to ask the obvious question, before clearly deciding against it. “Sure, son,” he said as Marvin nodded. “You know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “Well, I better get on that. Thanks for your help today.” He addressed the last part mostly at Marvin and Jacob and then flicked his eyes briefly over at Steve before turning and heading back into the building.

Jacob turned to Steve with his eyebrows raised. “I don’t wanna know what you done to piss that boy off,” he said, “that’s between you. But, thank you for this.”

“It’s kind of you,” Marvin agreed. “The folks here will really appreciate it.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s really all Bucky,” he said. “I’m lucky to be able to have some spare money and this was a nice idea. I’m really happy to help out.”

They both nodded, thankfully letting the matter drop.

***

The weeks continued to roll by both slowly and too quickly for Steve to keep hold of. The haze of just after his decision to stop Avenging was starting to lift, slowly, in ways that were hard to track. In some ways it was nice; he was starting to notice things again. Small, inconsequential things, like the colour of the leaves outside his window. It was like he was taking a breath again after an asthma attack. It still hurt, but it no longer felt like he might die. But it also meant that he noticed how long days were with nothing to fill them. He tried not to focus on waiting for Sunday to roll by. The idea of seeing Bucky was a pinprick of light in an otherwise still fairly bleak landscape. But he didn’t want to fixate, there was still a long way to go until he’d know if Bucky would forgive him and he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Which was good because if he had, he would have been profoundly disappointed. Bucky didn’t warm to him over the next few gardening sessions. His face remained closed and he spoke only when Steve addressed him directly. He tried not to let it bother him, but it became clear quickly how much their previous relationship had relied on Bucky filling the silences. He’d been so effortless in the way he brought Steve into conversation, kept it flowing, or allowing it to taper off into comfortable silence. He missed the ease of their interactions, and it hurt for Bucky to look at him like he was a stranger, or worse, an irritant.

“You know,” Sam said, after Steve came back from a session feeling particularly despondent, “it might be better if you just gave him some space.”

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “Yeah,” he said, “maybe. But, I just… I like seeing him, even though it’s not the easiest right now. Besides, the garden’s really starting to come on and the fundraising drive is coming up in a few weeks, I can’t just back out now.” He shrugged.

“I just don’t want you to put too much on fixing this,” Sam persisted. “If it doesn’t work out-”

“I get it, Sam,” Steve cut in, pushing down the annoyance. Sam was just trying to help. And he sorely needed help, it wasn’t fair to be annoyed that Sam didn’t know he was already steeling himself for everything with Bucky to collapse. He took a breath and hoped his voice didn’t sound too tight with anger. “I’m not pinning getting better on Bucky forgiving me. I’m working on other stuff. I’m sketching again. I’m meditating. I’m-”

“Going to therapy?” Sam cut in pointedly. 

Steve paused. “I’m working up to it,” he said. Sam gave him a look. The sort of look people were always telling him that he gave when he was disappointed that someone was lying to Captain America. He sighed, wishing he could articulate his hesitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t think it would work, despite the prevailing feelings about it when he’d been growing up. It was just he couldn’t quite imagine having the energy to talk through everything that had happened to him. His thoughts were so tangled, his mind so untidy, he’d have no idea where to even start.

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding only mildly sceptical. “You coming to Tony’s thing?”

It sounded like a topic change, but Steve couldn’t help wondering if it was more accurately a test. He’d got the invite from Pepper that morning, it wasn’t until next month and was apparently a relatively small gathering. He hadn’t known how to respond at the time and so it was sitting in his inbox. It was like he could feel it judging him for not being able to carry out the perfectly normal human experience of responding to correspondence.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I want to, but…” He gave Sam a helpless look, hoping that he might understand what he meant. He really wasn’t trying to avoid Tony, or anyone else, God knew that he owed them all the thanks he could muster for how they’d rallied around him. But it would be the first social gathering since he took a break and the idea was overwhelming.

“I get it,” Sam said, because of course he did, “those things are a lot for me too. But, I think you’d enjoy it. We can go together, then if you wanna bounce after an hour or so, I’ll cover for you.”

“Yeah? How are you going to manage that?”

Sam grinned. “I don’t know, spill something on his million-dollar rug?”

Steve laughed. “I can’t think property damage has much effect on Tony these days.”

“Hmmm,” Sam hummed, thoughtfully. “You make a good point. I’ll think of something real good, though, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, unable to resist the hopeful expression on his friend’s face. “Alright. But whatever you come up with better make it worth my while going all the way into Manhattan.”

“You better believe it’ll be great,” Sam said.

****

The next Sunday Steve stood at the back of a small huddle of residents that had gathered around Bucky. The new beds were made and filled with soil, ready for planting. Bucky had come up with a plan for what could go in the first of the beds, wanting to have something to show before they started the fundraising in earnest.

Of course, there wasn’t agreement with the plan, everyone seemed to have an opinion and the conversation seemed to have dragged on for hours, although it was probably less than twenty minutes. It made Steve miss the military, a chain of command wasn’t always a bad thing. He shifted in place and tried not to look as bored as he felt. He just wanted to get moving; he hadn’t had a chance to even speak to Bucky yet and he was getting restless. The other man had given him a cool look when he’d arrived and gone over to one of the other residents and started talking. He’d tried not to take it personally, despite the sting.

He’d kept his distance as Bucky went to talk to everyone else, thanking them for coming. It was like Steve’s eyes were magnets drawn over and over, no matter how often he tried to pull them away. And now, with Bucky addressing their small group, Steve was allowed to look. It was polite. But it made concentrating on the conversation hard.

“We need to plant something simple, that everyone can enjoy,” a women in her early fifties was saying when he managed to force himself to focus back on the conversation, rather than the way Bucky’s eyes were squinting into the early-afternoon sun. Steve was almost certain she was called Mary. “Some sweet peas, perhaps green beans.”

There was some nodding. Bucky opened his mouth but someone else spoke over him.

“No, we need something more interesting,” a man said, he was tanned, his face weather-worn like he’d spent his life working outdoors. “We’re meant to be getting people interested in this place, a few flowers and veggies aren’t going to cut it.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to speak, but two other people pipped in, talking over each other and disagreeing with slightly aggravated tones. Steve could see the way Bucky’s shoulders were drawing up, anxiousness clear in his face. Someone needed to step in and move things along. The constant arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere.

He cleared his throat. “I think perhaps Mary’s right,” he started, and everyone turned to face him. He should have been used to that, but it made his shoulders want to hunch. He had no desire to give orders, but he didn’t want Bucky’s meeting to be completely overrun either. He pushed on. “We need to practice some of the basics, first. If we go too fast it might put people off.” It at least sounded sensible. He flicked his eyes over to Bucky, hoping to see relief in his face as people finally started nodding and no one immediately jumped in to disagree.

But Bucky’s eyes were hard and cold. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice razor sharp as he crossed his arms over his chest, “but who asked for your opinion?”

Steve felt himself blush as the group stared at them both in open shock. Bucky’s temper hadn’t frayed throughout the entire conversation. No one there but Steve had probably ever seen him be anything but warm and charming. “No one,” Steve stuttered out, desperately wanting to avoid Bucky’s anger, “but I just-”

“Right,” Bucky cut in, “but Captain America has an opinion and us lowly mortals had all better listen?”

“That’s not-” Steve started, embarrassment and annoyance warring in his chest. He could feel the stares of everyone else and it was making heat crawl up his neck.

“Come on now, Bucky,” Jacob said, voice stern, “there’s no need for that.”

Bucky whirled on the other man. “No need for-?” he started before cutting himself off. “You know what, never fucking mind. Why don’t you all just carry on here without me. Just tell me what’s happening, because it clearly doesn’t matter what I think.”

There was a general chorus of disagreement but Bucky was already turning and storming back into the building. Steve could sense everyone’s attention turn back to him. He felt hot with embarrassment and, for the first time, anger at Bucky. It was one thing to give him the cold shoulder but another entirely to humiliate him in front of an audience. He should probably let him go, cool off. But that would mean staying and potentially answering questions he had no intention of answering. 

“I think I better-” he muttered, starting to move after Bucky. “Why don’t you all just carry on?” He strode quickly through the group before anyone had a chance to say anything. The door had already swung closed and Steve hurried forward. It turned out to be surprisingly hard to catch up with Bucky, but his longer legs meant he caught him just as he was opening his front door.

“Bucky,” he called when he was close enough.

“What?” he snapped, turning to glare at Steve over his shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asked, his annoyance keeping him walking forward even I the face of Bucky’s obvious anger. 

“What was what?” he asked, door half open and body positioned like he was going to step inside and shut the door behind him.

“You know what,” Steve said. “That was completely uncalled for. I was just trying to help-”

“Of course you were,” Bucky snapped. “You’re always just trying to help. You’re always trying to do the right thing. It’s irritating as fuck.”

“Okay,” Steve said, the unfairness of Bucky’s words finally pushing him into action, “we need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” Bucky said, stepping further into his apartment.

“Yes, we do,” Steve said. “Can I come in?”

Bucky glared at him for a long moment but Steve didn’t back down, he met his eyes and held them, leaving little room for argument. Eventually Bucky sighed heavily and stepped through the door, leaving it open for Steve to follow him. Once he was inside Steve froze for a moment. He hadn’t been back since his fruitless search for evidence of Bucky’s ties to HYDRA. It didn’t look any different from all the times he’d been there before. Which made sense, but also seemed wrong somehow, how he saw Bucky had changed so much that it seemed like his apartment should have too.

It took a moment for him to shake himself out of the haze and focus back on Bucky. The other man was watching him expectantly, clearly not intending on breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them.

“Bucky,” Steve said, his embarrassingly voice tight, “what happened out there, it was out of line. I get that you’re angry, but I’ve apologised. I’m trying here, I really am.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I understand if you can’t move past this, I really do. But, you can’t keep- It’s not fair to keep me around just to be your punching bag. I’d do anything it took to make it right, but if there’s nothing I can do, then you need to tell me. I swear you’ll never have to hear from me again, but I can’t keep doing this.”

Bucky looked almost panicked for a moment, then his expression stiffened into anger and Steve prepared himself for the final confirmation that they were done. That the last few weeks had been a waste of his time. Bucky let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah,” he said softly, voice heavy with saddens. “Fuck, I know.”

It hurt, more than he was expecting, to hear the confirmation. His chest was painfully tight and his throat closed as he tried to swallow past it. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. Thanks for trying, for giving me a chance. I’ll-” he gestured to the door. “I’ll go.”

“Fuck, Steve, shut up,” Bucky said, sounding almost amused under the annoyance. “That’s not what I meant.” He huffed, frustration clear in every line of his body. “I hate this,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “this isn’t me. I’m not this angry asshole, taking my shit out on other people. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I hurt you,” Steve said. “It’s okay to be angry.”

Bucky smiled humourlessly at him. “Maybe, but like you said, I can’t say I’m willing to try and then just be a dick the whole time. I just…” He shook his head. “I want to move on. I want to not feel like this, but whenever I look at you, I just… I think about all that time we had together, when I really thought we were friends, and I remember that it was all a lie and I just… I don’t know what to do with that. I feel like such an idiot.”

“Bucky,” Steve said, his heart heavy, “that’s not true. It wasn’t… None of our time together was a lie. That was the problem; if I hadn’t liked you, it wouldn’t have been so complicated. I know you don’t believe me, and that’s completely understandable, but I never lied to you. I kept things from you,” he added, because he could see Bucky’s face closing off in annoyance as he prepared to argue, “but nothing I told you was untrue. I did- I  _ do  _ like you. I want to be your friend but I can’t keep doing this either. It’s too painful and I’m meant to be getting better and I can’t risk that.”

“I know,” Bucky said, ducking his head, pulling a strand of stray hair behind his ear, a nervous habit, Steve knew. “I think what you’re doing is great, and I-” He paused and seemed to steel himself. “I like you too, Steve. If I didn’t I’d have told you to stick it weeks ago. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I’ll try and be better.” He looked up and met Steve’s eyes. “To be honest, I think it might be more about me than you at this point. Like I said on the roof, you managed to trigger some of my biggest shit, and it’s not as easy as I thought to put it back in the box.”

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut in firmly. “While we’re being honest, the whole hangdog routine you’ve been doing is driving me mad. It’s just a reminder of what happened, like I can feel you pitying me or something.” He held up his hand to stop Steve from interrupting to say he was doing no such thing. Then he sighed and something that was very nearly a smile tugged at his lips. “If I promise to stop acting like you ditched me at prom, can you stop acting like you ran over my puppy?”

Steve paused, wanting to argue with the premise, but if that was what Bucky wanted, it wasn’t his place to disagree, really. He’d agreed to repair their relationship on the other man’s terms. He took a breath and forced a smile on his face. “Sure, thing, Buck,” he said. “I can do that.” But, the echo of Sam’s voice in his head made him continue. “But, maybe we should talk it through, you must have questions about why-”

“I miss you,” Bucky said, his voice quiet but firm. It stopped Steve in his tracks, mouth hanging open in surprise until he managed to close it with a snap. “I get what you’re saying and maybe you’re right. But, I don’t think you’re going to say anything you or Sam haven’t already. Like I said that first night; I get it, I can understand the mistake. We’re both fucked up and we managed to bring out the worst in each other. I don’t want to drag it all up again. I just want to go back to watching movies with you, you know? I want it to be like none of this ever happened.”

Steve’s heart ached with Bucky’s admission, too many emotions fighting for dominance for him to fully grasp just one. Partly he felt terrible all over again for making Bucky look so upset, but he also couldn’t help his elation at the admission that he’d missed Steve. For the first time since Bucky had found him in his apartment, real hope bloomed in Steve’s chest that they might be able to come back from his mistake. Pretending that it hadn’t happened might not be the healthiest route to get there, but who was he to deny Bucky his request? Maybe he was right and there wasn’t really anything left to say, and it wasn’t like the idea wasn’t appealing.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and gentle, “me too. I’d like that.”

Bucky smiled, small and fragile. “Maybe you can come by on Tuesday? We’ll have pizza and watch something from the list.”

Steve’s heart felt like it was swelling to several times its usual size. “Okay,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as grateful as he felt. “I can bring the pizza?”

“You better believe you’re bringing the pizza,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay,” Steve said smiling hugely, “I’ll see you then.”

“Right,” Bucky said, although he looked a little worried when he did. “Let’s see how we go, yeah? Try again?”

“We’ll see how we go,” Steve agreed. He’d make it work. He’d make sure Bucky had every reason to want to be in his life again. Even if he had to construct one from scratch to do it.

“Okay,” Bucky said, nodding. “I guess I better go back out there and apologise for that little tantrum. Thanks for-” He gestured but didn’t seem to have the words. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

Steve nodded, smiling a little helplessly. “Yeah, I’ll see you Tuesday.”

***

“Steve,” Tony’s voice was cheerful, almost forcibly so when Steve answered the phone, “how’re you this fine Monday morning?”

Steve squinted at his ceiling. “Stark?” It was surely too early for a social call, not that Tony was known for keeping social hours.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Tony asked, sounding almost like he cared one way or the other. “I thought you’d be running several hundred laps around Prospect Park by now.”

“I’m taking a break from training,” he said, rubbing his eyes. It was mostly true; he’d felt tired at the mere thought of exercise for weeks, but since he’d started coming back to himself he could feel the familiar itch to move starting to return. He was reluctant to give into it right away, soon he probably wouldn’t have any choice, but for now he was content to continue with his new routine.

“Right,” Tony agreed, awkward for a moment. “Which is why I’m calling.”

“You’re concerned about my readiness in case something happens?” There was a slight sting at Tony’s words, even though he’d been worried about the same thing. The others were perfectly capable of holding any threats at bay for now, but if something truly big came up it might not be an option for Captain America to sit it out. At least not without huge consequences that he was sure no one was prepared to live with.

“What?” Tony barked, “no.” He sounded affronted and Steve blinked in surprise. “The break is why I’m calling. I just wanted to check you’re coming to my party.”

“Oh,” Steve said, feeling a little dazed at the abrupt change in direction his thoughts were required to take. “Pepper already emailed me.”

“I know,” Tony said, sounding exactly like he was rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone. “But you ignored it.”

“And told Sam I was going already.”

“As amazing as this may sound,” Tony said, “I don’t actually spend a lot of time talking about you when you’re not there. Bird man and I have many other very interesting and important things to discuss which don’t include your social life.”

“Right,” Steve said, feeling both oddly relieved and embarrassed at once. “But, like I just said, I’m going to come.”

Tony huffed. “Come on, Rogers, no need to make it sound like I’m inviting you to your doom here. It’s just a gathering of your closest friends.”

“I’m not-” Steve started but Tony wasn’t listening.

“You can bring a plus one,” he said right over him.

“What?” he asked, surprised and then confused. Then added, “What?” because he still had no idea what Tony was getting at. 

“Just saying, if you wanted to bring someone, it’s a ‘the more the merrier’ kind of deal,” he said slowly. There was a long pause where Steve wasn’t sure how he ought to respond before Tony spoke again, talking slowly and deliberately like Steve might be hard of hearing. “Perhaps there’s a neighbour you might want to bring.”

“Tony,” Steve said, his stomach doing a strange swoop at even the oblique mention of Bucky. “I thought you said you weren’t talking about me when I wasn’t there.”

“I said I don’t spend a lot of time doing it, not that I didn’t spend any time.”

“I’m not bringing Bucky,” Steve said, voice firm. He couldn’t believe Tony was even suggesting it.

“Sure thing,” he said, like he knew Steve was just playing with him, “whatever you want. I’m sure you know best. But, think about, if you change your mind the invite’s open.”

Steve was about to say something, explain that there was just no way, but Tony was already gone. He stared at the phone in confusion. Why did Tony think that was even remotely a good idea? He shook his head and pulled himself from bed instead of trying to understand the ways of the man’s mind.

***

Steve tried wrestle his face into an expression that didn’t show his nerves as he brought his hand up to knock on Bucky’s door. It was a familiar action; he’d done it hundreds of times, it felt like. But not since… before. This was a second chance. A real one this time and the desperate hope that it would go well was thrumming under his skin like a drumbeat.

“Geez,” Bucky said, eyes wide when he opened the door, “how many of us do you think you’re feeding?”

Steve looked down sheepishly at the pile of boxes in his hands. He’d probably gone overboard. But Bucky liked to change up his order and he’d wanted to make sure he had one of everything.

“They’re all mediums,” he said, aiming for nonchalance.

Bucky huffed, clearly amused. “Right, six medium pizzas is a normal amount for two people on a Tuesday night.”

“I was hungry?” he tried, but he was grinning and the effect was ruined.

“Come in, you goon,” Bucky said, stepping back from the door.

Steve stepped inside and tried to breathe through the nerves that kept making his shoulders want to rise to his ears. Bucky was wearing sweats and t-shirt, his usual movie watching outfit, complete with a low bun at the nape of his neck. Steve’s eyes snagged on a strand of hair that had escaped the band and was hanging loose across his forehead. It took a moment for him to realise that the silence had dragged on into uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

“You want to stick these in the oven to warm up again while we find the movie?”

Bucky blinked like he was coming out of a trance and nodded his head, perhaps more enthusiastically than was strictly needed. He stepped forward to take the boxes and then had to place them on the side to remove most of the trays inside the oven before they’d fit inside.

“Where were we?” he asked when he turned around. There was tension around his eyes, clear uncertainty that made Steve ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“Bedazzled,” Steve said. He could still picture the list clearly in his mind. There had been times over the last couple of months that he’d considered watching some of them alone, but it just didn’t feel right.

“Oh,” Bucky said, brightening, “I’ve seen that one. Well, I’ve seen the remake, anyway. Brendan Fraser was super cute in it.”

Steve smiled, thrilled to see Bucky so animated again, it filled spaces inside him that he hadn’t even known things were missing from. “Maybe we can watch that one next,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his smile dimming for a moment. Steve wondered if he’d overstepped; Bucky had only offered one evening after all. But Bucky seemed to shake himself again before Steve had the chance to dwell on it. “Come on, I’m going to find the film. You grab some beers and dip.”

Steve ducked his head and did as he was told. He wasn’t going to let a little awkwardness ruin the evening. It was understandable that they were going to take time to get back into any kind of rhythm and Steve wasn’t going to be put off. He was nothing if not stubborn and he was going to pretend everything was normal until Bucky told him not to.

The mood remained stilted as Bucky cued up the film and they settled down on the sofa. Steve found himself pausing before taking a seat. Before, more often than not, they’d ended up sprawled across the sofa, limbs touching, totally at ease in each other’s space. He knew that wasn’t appropriate now, but there also wasn’t much room for both them. In the end, he sat carefully down at the far end, leaving as much space as possible between them. Bucky’s eyes flicked over to him and briefly down at the space. He didn’t react and Steve wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing or not.

“Right,” Bucky said, his voice back to upbeat. “Shall we start while we’re waiting for the pizzas to warm?”

“Sure,” Steve said, pleased for the distraction.

The film turned out to be good. They were both laughing before long and once Bucky retrieved the pizzas, Steve felt himself starting to relax. It was almost like muscle memory. Bucky’s apartment was familiar and he felt safe, cozy in a way he never quite managed to replicate in his own home. They stay silent for a moment as the credits began to scroll up the screen. 

“You liked it?” Steve asked, keeping his voice gentle, not wanting to break the companionable mood that had settled over them.

“Sure,” Bucky said, with a shrug. “Not as good as the remake, but it’ll do.”

Steve couldn’t help smiling. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”

“I’m really not,” Bucky said, but his grin said otherwise.

“Should we watch it so I can be the judge? You have that too, right?”

Bucky’s smile wavered. “I dunno,” he said, “it’s getting kind of late.”

“You got a big day tomorrow?” Steve asked, pushing even though he knew he shouldn’t. It had been a nice night and there was no point in ruining it. But there something greedy in his chest, something that didn’t want to let go of the quiet of Bucky’s apartment, of the way he smiled at him. Besides, this was what Bucky had asked for, a return to normalcy. “Come on, we’ve never watched less than two movies.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, forehead creasing in discomfort, or maybe annoyance. “I just-”

There was a moment where Steve paused, unsure how to proceed. He should probably just take Bucky’s lead and go home. But, somehow that felt like a defeat and Bucky had been the one to make the effort last time, to push past Steve’s defenses. Perhaps Bucky wouldn’t thank him, but he felt like allowing the awkwardness to grow would be a bigger mistake. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking. “I know it’s going to take some time for you to trust me,” he said, holding Bucky’s eye steadily. “I’m not expecting anything to happen overnight. But, I want you to know that there’ll be no secrets this time. You can ask me anything you want, I’ll try and be honest with you.”

Bucky blinked at him, surprise written clearly across his face, followed by something that was clearly disbelief. Perhaps his offer had come had come completely out of the blue, but he wasn’t sure how else to get the other man to understand. Steve was all in, where before he’d always been careful to never give too much away. 

“I mean it,” Steve said. “I know you shared a lot of yourself with me and that I took advantage of that. So, I’m officially an open book. You can ask me anything.”

There was a long silence, where Bucky watched him closely before he drew himself up, eyes hard. Steve braced, knowing that whatever Bucky was about to say was going to be a test, something he thought Steve wouldn’t want to answer. “Did becoming Captain America hurt?” he asked, and as expect, the words sounded more like a challenge than a real question.

Steve paused, surprised. The reflex to wave aside the question made him open his mouth before he closed it again. “Yes,” he said, the word harder to say than it probably should have been. He never liked to admit any sort of sacrifice for the gifts he’d been given. But, once the word was out, he found his chest loosened, and it was easier to continue. “It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I mean, I’d been in pain most of my life, but that was mostly constant aches. This was…” He frowned, trying to put it into words. “Like being on fire, like all of me was being pulling apart and then seared back together. Which it was, I suppose. I could-” He stopped, unsure if he ought to continue, but he’d gone this far and there didn’t seem much point in keeping anything else back. “I could feel my bones growing, my back straightening, my muscles building. But all at once.”

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered, eyes wide. “That must have sucked.”

Steve shrugged. “Like is say, I was used to pain. They thought it was going to kill me..” He trailed off and shook his head. “It probably nearly did.”

“But it didn’t,” Bucky said after a moment. There must have been something in Steve’s face that made him phrase it as a question rather than a confirmation.

Perhaps that what made Steve continue to speak, combined with wanting to show Bucky just how much he meant that he’d try to answer any question as honestly as he could. “That depends on how you look at it,” he said, surprised that his voice was so steady. “I sometimes think I did die that day. Or at least Steve Rogers did. Captain America came out of that machine and…” He trailed off and shook his head again. “Well, you know how that turned out.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, and Steve was grateful that he didn’t rush to fill the silence with platitudes. “I guess you can’t go through something like that without changing,” he said eventually. “But, I don’t think Steve Rogers died that day.” He ducked his head when Steve tried to drop his eyes, so he could hold his gaze. “You’re still here, Steve. I see you.”

Steve’s eyes skittered away from Bucky’s, embarrassed at the way they wanted to fill at the honesty in Bucky’s words. “Thank you,” he muttered. “That- That means a lot.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Bucky said. There was a long pause before he asked, “You ever say that out loud before?”

Steve shook his head.

“Okay,” Bucky said softly. Then he straightened and lent back against the sofa, breaking the moment. “Have some more pizza, you need to eat another two at least before you leave.”

Steve closed his eyes, grateful that Bucky was letting the moment go, grateful for the distraction, just… grateful. “Another two?” he asked. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at him. “You brought the pizzas, pal. Besides, can you even get fat? I thought the serum took care of that.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I know that I need to eat a lot calories or I start to get dizzy and that if I don’t exercise after awhile I feel like I’m going out of my mind. So, I guess those things would make it hard? But I’ve never tried.”

“Something to test out,” Bucky said mildly. “I think you’d look cute a little less chiselled.”

“You saying I don’t look cute now?” He said it before he’d had time to consider the words and immediately felt his face heat. Flirting was certainly something they’d done before, but it was different now. It felt more dangerous, and thus much more exciting. 

“Don’t push your luck, Rogers,” Bucky said, drily. “Now, go get the rest of the pizza from the oven, I’m wasting away.”

“You got it, Buck,” he said, getting up from the sofa with a smile.

Bucky smiled as he reached for the remote and began searching for the remake of Bedazzled. Steve’s chest felt strange, something like panic had been gripping his heart as he’d told Bucky about what it felt like to get the serum, but with Bucky’s quiet acceptance it had quieted, settling into something warm and almost comforting. It certainly wasn’t a bad feeling, quite the opposite, but it was strange and new. He tried not to overthink it. It was good and he was meant to be finding things that made him feel good. He took a breath and grabbed the pizzas. 

It turned out to be a good night and when Steve finally made it home, he slept right through the night.

***

He still had episodes where he couldn’t seem to stop fixating on things, stray memories that gripped him and he couldn’t shake. Mostly they were of battle, both before and after he went into the ice. It was worse when he’d had a nightmare, but sometimes they came for him when he’d otherwise been fine for most of the day. Something would trigger the memory and he’d blink back to himself, knowing he’d lost time but not how much. Before he would have tried to channel that fixation into his work, into being useful, and without it he was adrift. They still met on Sundays, slowly working towards Bucky’s plans for the garden. But, once Steve had helped make the first beds, there really wasn’t all that much left for him to do and he found himself with more free time than he knew what to do with. 

He considered calling Natasha to ask for something he could help with, but he knew she wouldn’t give him an out. At least, not without a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer or lie about. He knew enough about what they’d been doing to know that they’d taken down a HYDRA cell recently. There was still no evidence the activity was even linked. Tony thought it was more likely that it wasn’t, that it was just the remains continuing on alone. The thought was comforting, but Steve found he didn’t want to know the details. He trusted Tony and Natasha to involved him if the situation ever really needed him. But that left him with little to occupy his mind. 

It wasn’t until a few days later that he remembered the community centre. At first he’d dismissed going back there out of hand; it was Bucky’s place and he had no intention of making Bucky uncomfortable there. But, now they were friendly again, maybe he wouldn’t mind.

He wondered about asking Bucky first, but decided that would probably just be uncomfortable for them both. Instead he walked back to centre one morning, just intending to have a look at the timetable for classes.

Denise was there when he entered the low building. She looked up and he watched as the flicker of recognition flittered across her face.

“Steve,” she said, smiling kindly at him. “Nice to see you again. You not with Bucky today?”

Steve’s chest fluttered at the mention of the other man, at the idea that she connected them together. He hoped he wasn’t blushing when he answered, a smile firmly on his face. “Not today, ma’am,” he said. “I was hoping to get a look at the class timetable. I’ve got some spare time and I thought…” He let himself trail off and waved his hand vaguely around them.

“Of course,” she said. “What are you interested in?”

It wasn’t, on the face of it, a difficult question. But it made Steve’s throat tight and his skin prickle, hot and uncomfortable. It was the echo of what Sam had asked him on their second meeting and he still didn’t have an answer. “Well, what have you got?” he countered after a moment. “It’s been awhile since I took any classes and I suspect things might have changed.” He tried to grin in a self-deprecating way that made the Avengers roll their eyes at him, but had most other people rush to offer assistance.

Denise gave him a long look, but then slowly pushed back from her desk. “Okay, dear,” she said. “Let’s see what we have for you.”

Steve left twenty minutes later with an assortment of leaflets and a print out of the centre’s timetable. He’d already decided to try the beginners sculpting class, but there were a few others he was already considering trying. Yoga. A poetry club where apparently you could share your other people’s work, as well as your own, and discuss it. A photography class. Cooking for local homeless shelters.

He sat at his kitchen table and carefully circled the ones that he was going to try. He didn’t want to overload himself, but at the same time, didn’t want to limit himself either.

His pencil lingered over one square for a long time. It was a Wednesday evening session. VA. Apparently it was an off-shoot from the bigger VA that a couple of vets that lived locally had set up. His pencil touched the bottom right corner of the square, leaving a tiny dot behind. He looked at it for a long moment, fighting the urge to rub it out entirely.

He took a deep breath, looked over his shoulder at the list still tacked to his fridge and then back at the paper. He reached out with the pencil again and very slowly circled the letters.

***

They didn’t make it all the way through A Clockwork Orange. Steve felt Bucky’s entire body stiffen the moment Alex is first taken for his ‘treatment’. One glance over at the other man, the way his whole body was locked, his face ashen, had Steve reaching for the remote and fumbling for the power button.

Bucky blinked as the screen went black, eyes flicking to Steve.

“I think I’m done with that one,” he said, voice firm, despite the fluttering in his chest. It wasn’t like he was exactly enjoying the movie, although the imagery was hypnotising. But the look on Bucky’s face was like a being doused with cold water.

He hadn’t given much thought to Bucky’s time with HYDRA. At least, not after he was sure he wasn’t one of them. But he’d heard the stories, what they did to their prisoners, and it made for grim reading. It made him burn to think of Bucky in one of their facilities, alone and at their mercy. “I think Stanley Kubrick has something to tell me, but I reckon it’s a lesson I learnt back in the 30s,” he said after a moment when Bucky didn’t respond.

There was another long silence where Bucky visibly tried to pull himself back together. “You didn’t have to-”

“I don’t need to see that,” Steve cut in. “I’m not interested in violence for the sake of it.”

Bucky stared at him, perhaps trying to decide whether to take him at his word or not. But it wasn’t like Steve was lying and he met and held his gaze easily. He didn’t want to watch violence with nothing else to say, Bucky’s reaction might have been the trigger, but he wasn’t sad they weren’t watching the movie anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky said eventually, letting out a slow breath. “I know what you mean.” He looked down at his lap, his mouth turned down into an unhappy grimace.

“I still get nightmares,” Steve said abruptly, the desire to comfort Bucky almost overwhelming. “About the war.” Bucky looked at him sharply. “I don’t mind them so much anymore; it’s not like I need a lot of sleep, and Bruce taught me some pretty good techniques to calm down after one. It’s when something happens in the day that it really gets to me.” He looked down at his hands, suddenly not wanting to see Bucky’s face while he spoke. “It’s funny, the things that can bring it back. Sometimes it’ll just be the way the sun looks at a certain time of the day, and I’m suddenly back in France, or New York and there’s aliens pouring out of the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just kept looking at Steve, his eyes wide and now a little unfocused. There was a balance, Steve could feel it. He really didn’t want to push, especially when he and Bucky were still on fragile ground and he knew how much he’d hate it if their roles were reversed. But the words were itching at him. He licked his lips. “You know,” he said, voice as gentle as he could make it. “You mentioned some stuff, on the roof just after- You said some things, and I totally get that you might not want to talk about it with me, but I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you did… want to talk, that is.”

The silence continued to stretch on. Steve fought the urge to squirm. The idea that he’d massively overstepped made his skin feel hot and his stomach tighten. He was trying to find something, anything, to say to break the silence when Bucky shifted, blinking like he’d come back from somewhere far away.

“I don’t,” he said, voice cold and heavy.

Steve’s stomach dropped. “Right,” he said, “of course, I’m sorry I-”

“I mean I don’t right now,” he said, cutting Steve’s apology off. “I know I dumped a lot on you that night, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I needed- I’m really fine.”

“I know that, Bucky,” Steve said, leaning in. “You’re doing amazingly, I just meant I don’t want this to be a one way street. I’m sorting a lot of my stuff out, and sometimes that all comes out when we’re talking, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you too. We’re friends, right?”

Bucky looked away for a moment, and Steve watched as he swallowed hard, tracking the bob of his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We’re friends.”

Steve smiled. “Okay, so, whenever you want.” There was another beat of silence, and then Steve picked up the remote. “Shall we see what’s next?”

Bucky smiled, relief clear in every line of his body. “It’s Harold and Maude,” he said.

“No ultra-violence in that?” he asked, a smile quirking his lips up.

That got a laugh. “Not judging from the cover,” he said.

“Okay, well, good.” Steve settled back down, and he noticed after a moment that Bucky had shifted in his seat, leaning slightly towards Steve. They weren’t touching, but they could. Steve would only have to stretch his fingers out and they’d brush Bucky’s arm. A content, warm feeling flooded him; he’d done the right thing. The slightly unfamiliar feeling of pride bloomed in his chest. He didn’t stop smiling through the entirety of the movie.

***

Steve told Sam about his intention to go to the VA meeting the next morning. They were getting coffee at a little place Steve had found on one of his walks. Sam had grinned delightedly when the girl at the counter knew Steve’s order. 

He’d hesitated about letting Sam know about his intention to go to the group, not wanting to make it feel even bigger. But, in the end, decided that accountability would probably be better. The idea of telling Sam he’d backed out of going might be the only thing that would force him to actually go when the time came. Something flickered across the other man’s face as he blurted it out almost as soon as they sat down, surprise, Steve suspect. But, then his face split into a huge grin. “Really?” he asked, “that’s great, man!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m probably not going to say anything.” He knew he sounded defensive and embarrassment was making his shoulders hunch. “But I thought… I don’t know, going with a group of people where I could just listen at first might be easier than going to a one-to-one session.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sam said. “I’m really proud of you.”

His grin was infectious, and Steve couldn’t help mirroring him, even though he rolled his eyes. “I’m also trying out a few other classes. Not all of them will stick, but I thought if I could try a few then maybe I’ll find something I really like.” 

Sam nodded, his eyes warm with affection that made Steve feel simultaneously pleased and embarrassed by. “Good for you. Tell me about them.”

***

The meeting was almost harder than Steve had feared it would be. But, at the same time, completely anti-climatic. He arrived as late as possible, hoping to slip in mostly unobserved. His heart was hammering as he pushed open the door to the small, mostly bear, room. He could feel his palms sweating as he sat down and wiped them against his thighs. The worst part was he didn’t even know why he felt so scared. There was no reason for him to be panicked about a few people in a room. He’d been in much, much, worse situations and felt something much closer to excitement than the terror that was pooling in his stomach at the thought of what was about to happen. 

At least he’d made sure to check that Bucky was around later that night, so he’d have something to look forward to after the meeting. It worked, for the most part. There was something very grounding in knowing he had somewhere to escape to, whatever happened once the meeting started. Not that he thought anything would happen. He’d already decided that he didn’t want to talk and was just going to listen. There really was no need for him to feel terrified. But, no matter how many times he repeated that thought to himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that crept over him as the day wore on and the meeting got closer.

He looked around at the other people milling about the room and had to cram his hands into the pockets of his jacket to stop them shaking. He kept his head down, focused on his feet as the other people in the room shuffled over and took up position.

Then the meeting started. And it was just… people talking. What they were saying was harrowing, or sad, and sometimes fairly mundane. But they were just talking. Saying things that they might not have been able to say outside of that room, but certainly nothing that made Steve feel anything other than compassion for, and something a little like kinship with, them.

He stood quickly as the meeting started to wrap up and hurried from the room, not wanting anyone to try and talk to him. His heart started hammering the moment he realised that the meeting was about to end. He couldn’t face any questions. He was sure most of the people there had realised who he was, but no one had said anything. It was a small mercy and he didn’t want to push his luck. 

He’d decided half way through the session that he was probably going to come back, but if someone asked him about it, if there was suddenly an expectation that he’d be back, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. 

The moment he was out of the building he felt himself begin to calm down again. The walk home seemed to drain away most of the felt the tension of the day. There was nothing in that room to be truly afraid of. No one had attempted to make him speak. No one had even tried to speak to him. He could go back. 

The thought of doing something so simple as going to a group where people talked, shouldn’t have been edifying. But it was. He felt good. Relieved. And, almost, proud. 

He went straight to Bucky’s, who had already ready ordered some Chinese takeaway that was being warmed in the oven when he arrived. He greeted Steve warmly and went about pulling out chopsticks and napkins, setting up the movie. And very carefully not asking about the meeting. Steve could feel the topic sitting almost heavily between them. He appreciated that Bucky wasn’t pushing, but the discussion felt inevitable.

“I’m going to go back,” he blurted when they were both seated and Bucky was playing with the takeout containers, dishing them out nearly equal portions from each. 

He paused only for a moment, before he continued pulling off the next lid. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral. “They were okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I was expecting. But, they were all… I knew them.”

Bucky nodded even though what Steve had said didn’t make much sense. “War is war,” he said. “Even if it’s seventy years ago or against robots. And,” he paused again, tucking his hair behind his ear. “It helps, having people who get it. Who aren’t trying to fix, just to listen and maybe understand a little where you’re coming from.”

Steve nodded. “It’s still going to take some getting used to,” he said. “When I was growing up…” He shook his head. “It was just all so different, how people interact now. In some ways it’s more reserved now, and in others… I don’t know. I can’t imagine the Howlies all sitting around talking about our feelings about the war.”

“Yeah, I guess we’ve come a long way,” Bucky agreed. “Probably not far enough. It’s not like men are exactly encouraged to talk about this stuff now. But, it’s less frowned on if we need to.”

“I know things have changed,” he agreed, slowly, considering his words carefully to be sure he meant them before speaking. “But, I guess I haven’t. Not enough, anyway.”

Bucky paused, blinking at him as though trying to figure something out. “Can I-” he started and then cut himself off with a shake of his head. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Steve asked, curiosity itching under his skin. “I said you could ask me anything, remember?” 

There as a long silence while Bucky clearly fought with himself about whether to say whatever was on his mind. “Would you go back, to before you went into the ice?” he asked suddenly, then ducked his head, embarrassed, perhaps if the way the tips of his ears went pink were any indication. “If you could?”

Steve paused, trying to push down his instinct to brush the question off with a joke. He hadn’t ever really thought about it, knowing that it was fruitless and that it would only make it hurt more to imagine. “I miss it,” he said slowly, and Bucky nodded, like he expected as much. “Sometimes…” He took a steadying breath, wanting to answer, but his chest hurt and his throat tight when he tried. “Sometimes, it hurts when I think about everything – everyone – that I’ll never see again. So much so that I can’t-” He broke off to swallow heavily and shake his head. He took another breath and looked up to meet Bucky’s eye, wanting him to understand. “But, if I left now it wouldn’t help. I don’t think I really belong anywhere any more.” 

“You don’t think,” Bucky started, and then stopped, looking down at the plate of food in his hand before setting it down carefully. “You don’t think you could belong here?” 

Steve blinked in surprise at the question. “I don’t know,” he said. And then realised that the thought had never even occurred to him. “I guess I’ve never fully believed that I was really here, you know?” He shook his head. “I mean, none of it seemed real at first, when I woke up. I was just waiting for someone to tell me that this was a dream, or a bad joke or… And then, I guess I never wanted to build something new. It always seemed disrespectful, I guess.”

Bucky watched him silently as he spoke, his eyes clouded with compassion and something a little like grief. There was silence for a moment before Bucky carefully reached a hand out to cover Steve’s where it was resting on his lap. “I’m sorry for your loss, Steve,” he said, his voice soft. 

Tears prickled his eyes, hot and embarrassing and he had to look away. He didn’t, he wanted to say, he didn’t deserve any of this. But, he didn’t because when Bucky said it, he made it sound true. And Steve wanted it. He really wanted a life, wanted to be able to really live. To care if he made it through the next fight. The realisation was terrifying but perhaps in a good way. 

“Thanks, Buck,” he said, voice thick, when he was sure he’d be able to speak at all. 

They were silent for a moment, just long enough for Steve to start to feel embarrassed about everything he’d said, when Bucky spoke again. “So, hey,” he said, leaning back and handing Steve was still steaming noodles, his tone upbeat, like he was deliberately changing topic and therefore the mood. Steve felt so relieved that he sagged in his seat. “You should ask me something,” Bucky finished, taking a bite of his food.

“What?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows, surprised, but relieved for the abrupt change in topic.

“I’ve been asking you all these questions, and…” He shrugged. “You should be able to do the same, if you want.”

Steve paused, surprised but pleased at the invitation. He cocked his head, trying to come up with a question that didn’t seem too personal to start with. “How do you know, Jessica?” he asked after a moment, thinking it was probably a safe enough topic to start with and wanting to show willing right away. “I know you said you went out with her partner one time. But, how did you go from that to helping her out on cases?” 

Bucky ducked his head. “You’re not the only one that looked into my past when they met me,” he said. Steve felt his chest tighten, but Bucky’s words were closer to amused than angry and so he pushed down the desire to apologise. “She found out about S.H.I.E.L.D. Probably had me checked out before I even went on that date. But, she thought because of that I might be able to help her with one of her cases, just getting some info on some local arms dealers.”

“And could you?” Steve asked, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure where the feeling came from, exactly, perhaps just at the idea of Bucky being in close proximity to danger. 

Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he said, making an unhappy face. “I still have a few contacts that didn’t get wiped out or go too far unground after S.H.I.E.L.D. went down.”

“You don’t look too happy about it,” he pointed out.

He sighed again, picking up his own plate and starting to pick at his food. “No,” he said eventually, his voice flat. “When I got out, I really wanted to be done. But….” He shrugged. “I don’t know, at the same time those guys, Jessica and Luke, they’re doing good work. Helping people that otherwise no one would give a shit about. I felt like I couldn’t say no.” He scrunched his face in apparent displeasure at the whole thing. “Besides, she’s not really the sort of person you say no to.”

Steve let himself smile, wanting to ease the tight line of Bucky’s shoulders. “You ever miss it?” he asked.

Bucky looked up at him. “What, you mean fighting? Having missions?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded.

“No,” he said, his voice firm and surer than Steve had ever heard it. “I really hated the fighting, pretty much from the start. But, I guess helping out Jessica didn’t suck. It’s not something I’m going to make a habit of, at least not right now, but I was happy to do it.”

Steve nodded. He’d assumed as much from the way Bucky talked about it. But it was still a surprise to hear him be so sure about it. Steve couldn’t imagine feeling that way about never being on a mission again. Not that Steve wanted Bucky to be on missions, the idea that he was out of the entire thing was reassuring. “Good for you,” he said, hoping it was clear how much he meant it. “You’ve done more than enough for this country. For the world. You deserve to stop.” 

Bucky’s mouth curved up. “Sure,” he said, and Steve couldn’t tell if was just humouring him or not. But, he knew, even before Bucky spoke again that the conversation was done. There was only so much feelings talk Bucky ever wanted to have with him. “We watching this movie or are you going to keep yapping all night?” 

Steve shook his head and grinned. “I’m done,” he said. “Let’s see what cinematic masterpiece is in store for us tonight.” 

***

Steve sighed as he read the text from Tony. It was another chaser about his party; he’d known it would be before he even opened it. Partly because this was the third time he’d text him about it in the last week. It was like he could tell Steve was trying to think of ways to back out of going. He felt bad about not going, but he was also reluctant to do anything that might tip the delicate balance he’d managed to create in his life. Things with the VA group were good and he was sleeping better, fixating less. But the idea of being around other people made his stomach churn. He didn’t want to answer questions or talk about what he’d been up to. 

“What’s with the face?” Bucky asked, eyebrows raised when Steve looked back up from his phone’s screen.

He sighed and pocketed his phone. “Nothing,” he said, “just Tony bugging me about his thing next week.”

“The party?” he asked, the tone of his question made it clear that he was asking for more than just confirmation of what Steve meant. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think he can tell I don’t really want to go and so he’s piling on the pressure.” 

Bucky nodded sympathetically. “You don’t like parties?” 

Steve felt himself smile at Bucky’s gently teasing tone. “Not so much,” he agreed. 

“They used to be my speciality,” he said after a beat of silence. “I could give you some tips.” 

“Or you could just come with me.” The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think them through. But Tony had already invited Bucky, maybe it was rude to not at least pass it on. 

“Ha,” Bucky huffed, eyes crinkling in amusement until he noticed Steve’s expression. “What? Really?”

“Well, sure,” he said, hoping he sounded casual even though his heart was beating hard in his chest. They hadn’t done anything like this before. Mostly they tended to hang out in Bucky’s apartment. But, now the idea was out there, Steve had to admit that it had its appeal. “It’d be fun - Tony knows how to throw a party. Or so everyone keeps telling me.”

“But, I’m not invited,” Bucky pointed out. “Besides, don’t they all still think I’m a HYDRA plant or something? I probably wouldn’t get through security.”

Steve was fairly sure it was meant as a joke, but the words were too sharp for it to really work as one. He tried not to tense at the sting. “They never thought you were,” he said, voice soft. “That was all on me, they mostly tried to tell me there wasn’t actually all that much evidence and I put them all straight right away, Bucky, they don’t-” He ran out of words and looked down, fighting down the urge to apologise again. 

“Ah shit,” Bucky said, his face crumpling in obvious upset, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” He sighed and cut himself off. “Damn it, now I’m going to have to go to make up for being a jerk, aren’t I?”

Steve looked up, a smile starting to tug at his lips again now it was clear that Bucky wasn’t actually upset. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But you have been saying you want to get out more and meet new people.”

“Not internationally famous superheroes,” Bucky countered, although his tone was more teasing than annoyed. “I somehow doubt we’ll have similar life experiences.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, matching his tone. “Besides, you know Tony and Sam already.”

“Right,” Bucky said, “two people I met when I was about the biggest messes I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m sure I made a great impression.” He stopped when he clearly saw the distress Steve was trying to hastily hide. “Don’t,” he said, voice firm, “the whole house of cards I’d built my life on was always going to come crashing down. I hadn’t dealt with my shit and… geez, okay.” He sighed as Steve lost the fight with his face to not look upset at what he was hearing. “I said I’d come, stop giving me the puppy eyes.”

“I’m not,” Steve said. “I promised I wouldn’t give you any more puppy dog eyes, remember?”

“Right,” Bucky said, nodding firmly. “And I promised to stop being a dick. Guess we both need to try harder, huh?”

“You can’t help being a jerk,” Steve said, trying to lighten the mood, “it’s just part of who you are. It’s not healthy to repress stuff like that.”

Bucky laughed, a surprised sound that seemed to punch its way right from his chest. It made a matching smile curve Steve’s lips. “Wow,” he said, “you’re an asshole.”

“Like I say,” Steve said, spreading his hands out at his side, “it’s not good to try and be something you’re not.”

Bucky’s laugh this time was warm, almost fond. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it. When is this party?”

“Thursday.”

He eyed Steve, face unreadable. “Do I have to wear a suit?”

“You can wear whatever you like,” he said. “But I won’t be wearing anything at all formal. It’s just a get together of a few of Tony’s friends. Nothing too over the top.”

Bucky shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what his life had come to. “Alright, pick me up around seven and I’ll come along.”

Steve couldn’t help how big his smile was, even when Bucky grumbled to himself and pointedly didn’t look at him as he picked the remote back up. It made Steve’s chest glow warm and content.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

It was a mistake to invite Bucky. He should have realised that sooner. But, by the time the consequences of his actions fully dawned on Steve, Bucky was already answering his door and there was a car waiting outside the building to take them across the city to the Avengers Tower.

Steve’s heart seemed to freeze in his chest when he saw Bucky, and then took off again at a million miles an hour. Bucky looked incredible. It wasn’t like Steve wasn’t constantly realising how attractive the other man was now he was letting himself really look, and yet it still somehow managed to blindside him. Bucky hadn’t dressed up especially for the occasion, he was wearing blank skinny jeans with a navy button-up and leather jacket. But, Steve’s mouth felt dry. His eyes couldn’t seem to decide which part of him to look at, and kept darting all over. Down to his boots and then back up to where his hair was almost managing to stay in its hair tie. 

Steve had already been aware that this was dangerously close to date territory. Steve picking him up didn’t help that feeling, despite him being sure Bucky didn’t see it that way. Steve’s hand didn’t seem to realise that it wasn’t allowed to reach out and take hold of Bucky’s and he had to keep it tightly at his side. His heart didn’t know not to race at the thought of it, either. 

“You okay?” Bucky asked, eyebrows climbing his forehead when Steve continued to stare at him without being able to form a single word.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Just…” He shook his head. “Sorry, you ready to go?”

Bucky frowned, looking concerned. “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to go,” he said. “Or, I don’t have to-”

“No!” Steve cut in. “It’s fine, really. Tony sent a car.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, as he stepped through his door and turned to lock it behind himself. “He think you’ll get lost or something?”

Steve shook his head. “Apparently it’s to make sure I turn up,” he said.

Bucky fell into step easily at his side. “Do you just not turn up to things a lot or something? I didn’t have you down at unreliable.”

“He seems to think so,” Steve said. “But I maintain it was only when I’d never agreed to go in the first place.”

“He’s kind of pushy, huh?” Bucky said as they left the building and climbed into the waiting car. It was long, sleek and showy. Because Tony didn’t know how to provide anything that didn’t draw attention to itself but, that didn’t quite so bad when Bucky looked it over appreciatively. 

“It’s his way of showing he cares,” Steve said as they settled into their seats. It had taken him a long time to realise that Tony’s slightly aggressive insistence that Steve do certain things was almost always because Tony genuinely thought it would be best for him. Despite appearances, if Tony wanted something for himself it was almost always the last thing he out right asked for. The trouble was they often fundamentally disagreed on what ‘best’ actually meant. Steve was trying his best to learn how to appreciate the thought.

The drive over was mostly quiet, Bucky’s attention apparently on the slowly moving scenery out of the window. But Steve could tell that he was tense in the way he was holding himself too still and quiet. “You know who else is going to be there?” he asked eventually, glancing at Steve and away again.

“Mostly the Avengers,” he said. “Sam said he might bring some friends and Pepper usually invites some other people. It helps if the team’s a bit diluted,” he added.

Bucky’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You guys tend to fight?”

“Bicker,” Steve amended and thought it was at least mostly true. “We’re pretty different people, but we’ve learnt to mostly get along.”

Bucky shook his head. “Good, because I’m not getting in between you and another superhero if you do something stupid,” he said.

“You won’t have to,” Steve said. “I’m sure Pepper has everyone on strictly best behaviour as we’re bringing guests.”

“Good to know,” Bucky said, looking back out the window. He didn’t appear to be any happier, and Steve had to move his hands into his lap to keep from reaching out to touch him and offer comfort.

There was music playing when they entered Tony’s apartment. It didn’t look drastically different from before Ultron had destroyed it and he’d had to get it remodeled. Apparently Tony had a very specific taste in interior decor. Or maybe it was Pepper. There were people already milling around, Steve had met most of them before at various, similar gatherings. He nodded at Natasha and Clint as they raised their glasses at him as he entered. 

He could feel Bucky just behind him, and perhaps Steve was projecting, but he seemed tense. He wished, not for the first time, that he was better at socialising himself. Parties weren’t exactly his specialty. Given a role he always knew how he ought to act, but when it was just meant to be him, words got caught in his throat and suddenly he had too many limbs and no clue what to do with any of them. He was just too big now, where he’d been too small before. He hunched, but that just apparently made everyone think he was miserable. He was, usually, but he didn’t want people to know that. 

“Drink?” he managed, after a moment. That convention was at least easy enough to fulfil. 

“Sure,” Bucky said. “Is he going to have beer or will it only be incredibly expensive champagne that still tastes like ass?” 

Steve grinned. “I think I can manage to find something drinkable.” 

It was easy enough, given how every surface seemed to be holding a collection of glasses and various types of alcohol. He’d just finished handing Bucky a glass, trying not to visibly react when their fingers brushed, when a voice made him startle and turn sharply. 

“Steve!” Tony called, appearing suddenly at his side. He looked excited, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Steve tried not to let that worry him. “You left your apartment; colour me delighted and surprised. And you brought a friend. Nice to see you ago T2, how’s the arm working out?” He waved his hands as he spoke but didn’t extend one to shake Bucky’s. 

“Nice to see you again, Mr Stark,” Bucky said, his eyes tracking Tony’s every movement. “It’s great, thanks, hardly ever malfunctions and electrocutes me.” 

A flicker of outraged horror crossed his face before Tony clearly realised that Bucky was joking. “Hey, you’re funny,” he said, pointing at Bucky and then looking at Steve. “He’s funny. You never said he was funny.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but it was pointless because Tony was already talking again.

“Have you met the lovely Ms Potts?” he asked, looking back at Bucky. “She’s the one that actually convinced me to get into prosthetics in the first place.” 

“Erm,” Bucky said, looking a little startled when Pepper grinned and stepped forward with her hand outstretched. 

“We haven’t met yet,” she said. “But, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Barnes.” 

“Bucky,” he replied, shaking her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you. Thanks for letting me tag along with Steve.” 

Tony huffed. “We all know that he wouldn’t have come without assistance,” he said, waving his hand again. “Anyway, apparently I have to personally kiss every ass in this room or something,  _ at my own party _ ,” he said, pouting at Pepper. “But I’ll see you two young bucks later.” 

They didn’t bother with a reply because Tony strode away without waiting for one and Pepper followed after him leaving them with a friendly eye roll in his direction. 

“Well, that was Tony,” Steve said into the silence. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said slowly. “Is he always…?” He trailed off and settled for gesturing after him. 

“Like that?” Steve asked, smiling. “Yeah, you get used to it.”

Bucky shook his head. “There’s no volume dial? I’d lock him in a broom closet within a week of working together.”

“Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Steve asked, grinning. 

“Probably because he’d just work out a way to turn the broom sentient and also make it fire missiles?” 

“Ah,” Steve grinned. “Yeah, that’ll be it.” 

There was a beat of silence where Bucky looked around him with raised eyebrows. “This is quite the pad,” he said, looking back at Steve with a grin. 

Steve couldn’t stop himself from pulling a face in response. 

“Not your taste?” Bucky asked, the corner of his mouth turning up. 

“Not really,” he said. “It’s a bit…” 

“Soulless?” 

“Hey, you said it,” Steve said. “I mean, it’s amazing, but not really somewhere I can ever imagine myself actually living. I prefer things to be a little more simple.” 

Bucky was smiling at him, something warm in his eyes and Steve desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking. He was just trying to form the words when they were interrupted. 

“Bucky!” Sam said, appearing at their side with a grin and thrusting his hand out to shake Bucky’s. “Glad you could make it, man.”

“There was no way I was missing Tony Stark’s party,” Bucky said, easily, as though he hadn’t been nervous the entire ride over. “I’m going to be lording this over my family for years.”

Sam laughed. “Right?” he said. “Listen, there’s someone I wanted you to meet,” he said, already pulling him away. “I’ll catch you later, Steve,” he said, as though worried Steve was about to follow them. 

The move shouldn’t have surprised Steve, it was clearly Sam’s way of showing that Bucky was welcome, with or without Steve there. It was kind. Sam always found a way to make sure people felt included. It was like his superpower, along with flying and general ability to hold his own in any fight he seemed to find himself in. Steve couldn’t even find it in himself to be jealous of that particular ability. He’s been on the receiving end of it often enough that it would be churlish for it to bother him. Besides, he really appreciated that someone else cared about Bucky feeling at ease. He really wanted Bucky to stay around and if he could be friends with Steve’s friends that would make a big difference. 

So Steve held his ground, despite an initial flash of concern for Bucky. He didn’t want to be overbearing and it wasn’t like Bucky seemed bothered, he knew Sam after all and they seemed to be chatting happily together as they made their way over to a group of people that must be Sam’s friends. He should have known they’d get along; they both had an inherent ease with people and a fierce loyalty that would either bond them for life or set them on a path of deep dislike. Thankfully it appeared to be the former.

“You guys getting along again, then?” A voice asked at his side.

Steve turned his head to meet Natasha’s eyes and smiled down at her. He considered pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about, but really there was no point. She’d know he was lying anyway. Instead he smiled and turned to face her. “It’s going well, better than I hoped to be honest.” 

She smiled at him. “Good. Now, come get a drink with me; I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

She didn’t wait for him to agree, just turned and walked away. Steve cast a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure Bucky still looked okay. He was laughing at something Sam was saying as he introduced him to his friends, so Steve figured it was probably okay to leave him for a few minutes. He followed closely behind Natasha as she wove her way through the crowd, which seemed to part for her easily. They found a quiet spot near the back of the room, just a small circle of chairs. It gave Steve a good view of the room, but also somehow offered at least the illusion of privacy. 

They traded stories for a little while, Steve trying and mostly failing to get Natasha to talk about what she’d been doing for the last month. She looked completely unharmed, so it couldn’t have been anything too dire, but Steve knew better than to believe it wasn’t dangerous. He found he had more to share about his own life than was normal for him. He talked about classes he’d started, about how he was actually pretty good but pottery and poetry remained a mystery. He talked about the garden. The movies he’d seen. He talked around Bucky. It felt nice. Like perhaps he’d really been alive while she wasn’t there to watch him. 

Natasha let him talk for a few minutes, laughing at the right places and nodding along, before she put her glass down at her feet and leant forward. He knew what was coming, even before her face went sharp and suddenly totally focused on him. 

“So you’re okay? Really?” she asked, searching his face closely. He opened his mouth to answer but she cut him off. “I mean, actually, I’m not after a status report.” 

Steve sighed and sat back. It really wasn’t an unfair or unexpected question. The last time she’d been around had been when Steve was barely able to leave his apartment. She deserved the truth after she’d been there for him when he’d most needed it. Not that he wanted to lie. Not to her, at least. “It’s been better,” he said, testing the words and finding that he really meant them. She gave him a long look and he shook his head, smiling ruefully. The whole truth it was then. “But, I don’t know. Every time I think I’ve made progress I realise that there’s actually all this other…” he gestured vaguely, “stuff that I haven’t dealt with. It’s never ending.” 

She nodded, apparently satisfied that he was telling her the truth. “It was never going to be easy,” she said. “It gets easier, but that doesn’t mean you don’t also regret ever starting to deal with it to begin with.” She grinned at him, something knowing and darkly amused in her expression. 

There were very few people that Steve knew for a fact could go toe to toe with him in the ‘Awful depressing things have happened continuously to me Olympics’. Most of them were in the room with him and Natasha was probably foremost among them. She’d been through so much that Steve didn’t even really know how to keep it all in his head when thinking about the woman sitting before him now. He wondered now why they never talked about it. None of the Avengers seemed to talk about the things they’d gone through. Perhaps, like him, they were worried they’d never be able to put the genie back in the bottle once they started. 

Maybe it was time to change that. 

“How do you do it?” he asked, searching her face and hating the desperate tone in his voice. “Everything you’ve been through and you’re still standing, still fighting. I don’t know how you do it.”

Natasha smiled, looking for a moment genuinely touched at his words, before something more sardonic covered the expression. “I don’t have any choice,” she said. “I was built like this. Stopping hasn’t ever been an option for me. I have exactly one gear.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, “that’s not it. It was you that kept us together during the Accords. You that figured out how to work together after. And after S.H.I.E.LD. too. I’ve been slowly falling apart since I woke up, Tony’s basically a wreck, Thor has to literally leave the planet to get away half the time, Brue turns into a giant rage monster, and Clint has two entirely separate lives. But then there’s you.” He smiled at her, feeling impossibly fond. “You’re the strongest of us, I think.”

She leant back, seeming to contemplate his words, her face softening as he spoke. “I take a back seat, you know?” she said. “I take orders, that’s different from what you and Tony do. When it gets too much I leave the country and play at being someone else for a few months. I can’t…” She sighed and shrugged. “Making a real life isn’t for me, Steve, they took that from me. But, I can have this, I can be who I want, when I want. I can help people. I can have the backs of superheroes. That’s all I need; a chance to erase some of that red that’s still in ledger.”

“I think it’s gone,” he said, hoping she could see how much he meant it. “All those things you did, that wasn’t you.”

She might have appreciated the words, but there was no way to tell, because her face was closed again. This, apparently, wasn’t a subject open for discussion. “You know,” she said, “I think the bravest thing is trying for a life. Settling down and being a person? It’s about the bravest thing anyone can do. I’m happy making sure that I give as many people the chance to do that as possible.” She paused and grinned at him. “That includes you, by the way. We’ll figure out a way for you to have both - if that’s what you want. We have your back.”

Something uncoiled in Steve’s chest. He’d known she was going to be there for him, but hearing her say it so matter-of-factly made him feel a swell of unexpected emotion. “That life,” he said, holding her eye, “I intend for it to include you. All of you. You’re my family.”

Her mouth turned up, her eyes bright. “I know, big guy, back at you.”

The moment was gone. For all that she clearly appreciated what he was saying, her limit to discuss her own emotions had been met. He let the moment go, grinning at her. “Does that mean I can start annoying you with constant suggestions for dates?”

“Payback, you mean?” she asked, her grin widening. “You can suggest all you want, but is there something about me that suggests I can’t or won’t get a date the moment I want one?”

Steve laughed. “No ma’am.”

***

By the time they were back in the main party, Steve had to look around for a long moment before he could locate Bucky. There was a momentary flash of fear, before he noticed him talking to Sam’s group of friends. He let out a breath and started to make his way over, only, when he got closer, it appeared that he was actually only talking to one of them. The rest of Sam’s friends seemed to have migrated a few steps away and were all talking to each other, leaving Bucky and a tall, very broad, guy in their own little bubble. Steve was almost certain that he’d never met him before, but he was leaning into Bucky’s space, saying something that made him laugh.

“There you are,” Sam said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as Steve reached his side. “Thought you might have ditched us.”

Steve shook his head. “Not yet,” he said, trying and mostly failing to look away from Bucky. He managed to resist the urge to ask for less than twenty seconds, “Who’s your friend?” He’d hoped that his voice would sound casual but it didn’t, even to his own ears. 

Sam followed Steve’s gaze. “Oh,” he said, “that’s Mark. He’s another councillor at the VA.”

Steve nodded and tried to look away from where Bucky was laughing and talking animatedly with his hands. This was a different Bucky from the one Steve was getting used to. Since they’d started spending time together again, Bucky had been quieter, more reserved. At first Steve had thought it was because of their own damaged relationship, but now he wasn’t so sure. He was starting to think that the out-going, chaty and relaxed Bucky he could see now was part of an act the other man put on. Him performing an aspect of his personality that he didn’t naturally have any more. Steve wasn’t sure if he ought to envy Bucky’s ability to perform so easily or be concerned that he thought he had to. 

“How hard are you finding it not to go over there right now?” Sam asked, amusement clear in his voice.

“I’m not-” Steve said much too quickly. He sighed and shook his head. “He’s allowed other friends, Sam. I’m happy that he’s having a good time, I just didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed.”

Sam nodded, he looked a little impressed which Steve tried not to be insulted by. “That’s good,” he said. “Mark’s a really good guy,” he continued. “Everyone at the VA loves him; it’s not easy finding the right fit for our LGBT groups, but he’s really good at it.”

Steve tried not to obviously freeze. “He’s…” His mouth started for him before he managed to control himself. He looked back over to see Bucky leaning in, head cocked to one side, clearly engrossed in what the other man was saying. Something tight coiled in Steve’s chest. “That’s great,” he managed after a moment. “It’s important that people can have those sorts of spaces to talk.”

“Geez,” Sam said, amusement clear in his voice, “don’t pull something, man. It’s okay if you’re a little jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Steve lied, and then winced at how obvious it sounded. “Look, it’s really not my place to…” He gestured. “I just want him to be happy.”

Sam shook his head. “Okay, whatever you say,” he said. There was a beat of silence. “You can go over there now.”

Steve considered, for probably less than a second, pretending that he didn’t want to. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll just go introduce myself- Check he’s…” He trailed off as Sam just chuckled at him. 

Bucky was laughing again as Steve made his way over. Mark noticed him first, straightening slightly as Steve approached, he turned to him, smiling warmly. 

“Hi,” Steve said, “nice to meet you, I’m-”

“Yeah,” Mark said, grinning warmly and taking Steve’s proffered hand. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Mark was just telling me about his Thanksgiving,” Bucky said, like he was still holding in laughter.

“He was trying to tell me he had it bad because he’s a younger brother,” he said. “I was setting him straight on the matter.”

“Not that straight,” Bucky said, and they both laughed, apparently referencing something else if the little smile that passed between them was anything to go by.

Steve wanted to add something to conversation but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t be a major conversation killer. He didn’t have siblings and all his Thanksgiving stories were, now he thought about it, kind of depressing. There was a slightly protracted silence where Steve utterly failed to think of anything to say. 

“Well,” he said, sounding only slightly too forceful in his cheer, “I just wanted to…” He stopped, realising that Bucky probably wouldn’t appreciate Steve admitting he was checking on him. “Say hello,” he finished lamely. 

Bucky frowned a little but Mark grinned again. “Thanks, it’s a pleasure,” he said. “I can’t believe the number of celebrities I’ve met in the last two hours. No one’s going to believe me.” 

Steve gave him a little nod and had to lock his arms to his side as they made a valiant attempt to give a little salute as he backed away. 

Sam was watching him with an amused expression when he returned to his side. “How’d that go?” 

“Good,” Steve nodded. “Good. Great.” 

Sam seemed to lock his face for a moment. “They’re getting along?” 

“Brilliantly,” Steve said. “Bucky’s about thirty seconds from asking him out.” 

“Hmmm,” Sam said. “Yes, that will happen when two hot people meet at a party.” 

“You knew this would happen?” Steve asked, his voice rising slightly embarrassingly.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “No,” he said. “But, it’s not exactly a shock. I thought they might hit it off.” 

“Then why did you invite him?” Steve didn’t give his mouth permission to form the words, but they punched themselves out of his mouth anyway. 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he’s my friend and deserves a cool night out?” Sam’s voice was flat and there was a slightly defiant expression settling over his face. “I didn’t know Bucky was going to be his type, or if they’d hit it off. But, you know, if you’d just said something to Bucky about your feelings for him weeks ago, none of this would-”

“Okay, I get it,” Steve cut in, hoping he didn’t sound a petulant and he felt. “It’s not my place to be bothered by this, Bucky can talk with whoever he wants.”

“Sure he can,” Sam agreed easily. But then his face got serious and Steve knew something bad was coming. “But, listen up; Mark is probably going to ask him out before the end of the night. And, judging by that body language, they are going to go on a date. They might go on more than one date. You need to decide if you’re okay with that and quickly. It’s fine to offer him an alternative, but you cannot mess this up once they start something. That’s just a dick move.”

Steve knew all of that. He did. He wasn’t sure why Sam thought he needed reminding. He’d caused Bucky more than enough trouble already and had no intention of doing anything else that might hurt him. “I won’t mess it up for him,” Steve said, trying to square his shoulders.

“Okay,” Sam said slowly. “But you do know that there’s another option than just grinning and bearing it, right? You could tell him how you feel. Give him the option.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Steve said, gripping his beer tightly. “Any feelings he might have had for me…” He shook his head. “I messed that up. Being his friend is more than I deserve already. I can’t ask him for more.” 

There was an only just audible sigh before Sam responded. “And he doesn’t deserve even the chance to decide for himself what he wants?” 

Perhaps Steve would have had to think of a response to that, but luckily Bucky and Mark chose that moment to make their way over to them. Steve just shook his head and plastered on his best smile as they approached. 

***

The rest of the party passed surprisingly easily. Steve wasn’t sure if everyone had been briefed, but he didn’t get as many people approaching him that he didn’t know as usual. Bucky stuck mostly to his side as the other Avengers came over to introduce themselves and catch up with Steve. It was a fun night. It was nice to be out of his apartment. He’d known, logically, that nothing bad would happen, but there had been a lingering sense of unease about the whole thing. Part of him had been convinced that he’d feel exactly the same as he always had, like he was there, but not really. Like he was just observing everything through a window. The idea that he’d realise that all his work over the last few months had achieved exactly nothing was terrifying. 

But that wasn’t how he felt at all. He was happy to see his friends, it was nice to catch up. He was also exhausted and they’d been there less than four hours. It was at least a vaguely satisfying exhaustion, but still. He was ready to leave himself by the time Mark came over to shake Steve’s hand again and smile his goodbye to Bucky. Steve tried not to let the sinking feeling in his stomach bother him as Bucky watched Mark leave. 

***

“Thanks for tonight,” Bucky said, as Steve left him at his door when they made it back to their apartment. “I had a really good time; it was nice meeting your friends.” 

“No, problem,” Steve said, feeling warm and fond. The whole night would have been worth it just for the pleased expression Bucky was wearing, the fact Steve also had a good time was just the cherry on top. “Thank you for keeping me company. I think everyone was about 100% better behaved with you there.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Well now I just want to see what happens when they’re off the hook.” 

“You really don’t,” Steve said with a grin. “But… maybe next time Tony’s getting people together you can come along?” 

“Sure,” Bucky said, easily, like it wasn’t even a question. “Wouldn’t want to miss the Avengers behaving badly.” 

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding. The idea of Bucky getting to know his friends, of entangling their lives even more was exciting where before it had been terrifying. “Great,” he said, hoping he didn’t seem as ridiculously fond as he felt. “Night, Buck.” 

Bucky smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made Steve’s chest a bit tight. “Night Steve.” 

He realised, as he lay in bed, content and sleepy for once, why it felt so different this time with Bucky. It wasn’t just the knowledge that he could trust him. It was  _ him  _ that was different. It felt, for the first time in perhaps his whole life, like he was finally starting to build something that might be worth sharing with someone.

He smiled to himself, rolled over and closed his eyes. 

*******

Steve thought about his realisation a lot over the subsequent days. It had happened almost as slowly as the realisation that he wasn’t happy. What he’d been working on since he stopped being Captain America wasn’t just about him learning how to feel something other than dread. It was about building a life. A life that he actually wanted to live, wanted to experience. Wanted to share with people. 

He tried to find the words to convey the thought. His first attempt at saying it out loud at his next VA meeting was halting and embarrassing in its uncertainty. But, there were enough nods from the people around him that he felt confident enough to try again.

_ Saturday Night Fever _ ’s credits were still scrolling up the screen when Steve leant back and sighed. “Another?” he asked, “I’m kind of thinking that Grease might give us a different perspective on John Travolta.” 

Bucky turned his head to grin at him, his features sharp in the dim light from the TV. “You’re in a good mood tonight,” he said, but was already fiddling with the remote to find the next film. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking a moment to appreciate the truth of the words. “I am. I’m feeling good. Better than I have in…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. A long time.”

Bucky stopped what he was doing, twisting in his seat so he was facing Steve fully. There was a concentrated look on his face, one that said Steve was now the sole focus on his attention. It was a bit like being in the sun. Steve tried not to preen. “Yeah?” Bucky asked, clearly a prompt for Steve to continue. 

He took a moment, trying to gather the words. He licked his lips and took a shallow breath. “Since I woke up, hell, maybe even before that, I’ve felt like I didn’t really have a life, that I wasn’t really here,” he said, his words halting and a little uncertain sounding. Bucky gave a slight nod of understanding which helped Steve keep going. “But that’s not... That wasn’t true. I did have a life. Or at least the start of one. I had a new family, things I cared about. It wasn’t perfect, not at all, but the basis was there. Even the job, it wasn’t that I didn’t love it, I did- I do. But I didn’t want to see that.”

Bucky looked at him for a moment. “How come?” he asked, after a beat of silence where Steve just looked at his hands and didn’t elaborate.

“I was just waiting for it all to be taken away.” His shoulders dropped when he said it, like a weight had been shifted. His whole body seemed to sag with relief that the words were finally out. He didn’t dare look up to see if Bucky was reacting or how. Instead he continued to speak, finding it easier now he’d started. “I think I was so terrified that it could all suddenly be gone again that I couldn’t let myself enjoy it. I didn’t want to enjoy anything, because that would just make losing it all so much worse.

“In the war, that was when I first started to really feel like I had a life. Before that it was all survival. Of course I had my mum, but that was about it. Then, in the war, there was Peggy, and my team. I was good at something and…” He blinked rapidly, willing his eyes not to fill. “Then it was just gone.”

“I can’t even imagine what must have been like,” Bucky said, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry you had to go through it.” 

Steve shrugged. “Thank you. I never really processed that, I guess. I did grieve for all the people I’d lost, or I came to terms with them being gone at least. But, I never let myself acknowledge what that had done to me. I started to think maybe it just… hadn’t affected me. Stupid, right? How could that not?”

Bucky’s hand was warm and solid where he reached out to grip Steve’s arm. “No, Steve, God,” he said. “How the hell were you meant to know what it had done? It’s never happened to anyone before. Of course it’s going to affect you in unexpected ways.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, trying to let the comfort seep into his skin through Bucky’s hand. “It helped, actually, hearing the way the other vets talked about coming home? It wasn’t the same exactly, but plenty of them felt like the world had moved on without them. It helped, not being alone in it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “I get that. I’m so pleased that the group’s helping, Steve.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”

There was a long pause before Bucky spoke again. “Do you still feel like that?” he asked, his eyes intent on Steve’s face. It was the inevitable question, he supposed, but it had never occurred to Steve to ponder it. He paused, trying to sort through his feelings, like he’d been practicing in his sessions. It was harder with Bucky; it felt like the other man could see every thought in his head. He felt splayed open, vulnerable. But he wasn’t about to back down. He’d come this far.

“I don’t know,” he said, then shook his head. That wasn’t right. “I don’t think so. I mean, what’s the point in punishing myself by not having a life now? I’m not going to be happy either way, might as well grab all the happiness I can now.”

Bucky smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides, like they only did when he was genuinely pleased. “Yeah, Steve, you really should.”

***

“I want to try one-on-one therapy.”

Sam stopped from where he was about to take a drink from his coffee, but only for a moment: the man was a pro. “Yeah?” he said, voice casual, like Steve had just suggested they go for a walk after this. 

Steve nodded. “I think it’s time,” he said. “I really like group but sometimes with everyone looking at me…”

“Sure,” Sam said. “It’s a different thing. You want me to make some recommendations?”

They both knew Sam had made recommendations before, he was really asking what Steve needed. “Could you maybe,” he started, feeling stupid, but still forcing the words out. “Could you just set up a first meeting with someone you think I might like?” He wasn’t sure how to explain that all the names and numbers were overwhelming and he just wanted to an appointment that he could work up to. It sounded stupid even in his head.

But Sam just grinned at him. “Of course, man,” he said. “I always thought you’d like David; he can be a little shit, but somehow I think you’ll get along just fine.”

Steve huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Sam.”

“Anytime man,” he said. “I’ll text you the details later, okay?”

He took a steading breath before nodding. “Sounds good.”

Sam didn’t say he was proud of him. He didn’t need to, Steve could read it plainly across his face. He looked down at him coffee before taking a big gulp. He wasn’t sure he could face another conversation about feelings. But he felt lighter, or like he’d taken another step forward. He grinned to himself.

***

“So, I have news,” Steve said, a couple of days later after another film’s credits rolled.

“Hey, me too,” Bucky said, grinning, “but you go first.”

Steve paused, intrigued. But then shook himself. “I’ve got an appointment with a therapist next week. Dr David Michaels; Sam set it up for me.” He paused before adding. “Because I asked him to.”

The smile that spread across Bucky’s face was beautiful. Steve’s toes curled and his heart fluttered. It was almost alarming how his whole being seemed to react to Bucky. He’d do just about anything to see that expression on his face. “Steve!” he said, reaching forward and nudging his arm. “That’s brilliant!”

He grinned, looking away, embarrassed but undeniably pleased with the praise. “It might not work out, but I wanted to at least try.”

“Sure,” Bucky said. “I didn’t like the first couple that I met. But, getting that first appointment set up? That’s a really big step.”

Part of him wanted to brush off the compliment, even though that was exactly how it felt to him. “Thanks,” he said, instead. “But, never mind about that. What’s your news?”

“Ah,” Bucky said, dropping his gaze and suddenly looking bashful. His cheeks turned a dusty pink and Steve watched with open fasciation at the change in skin tone. “I ah… You remember Mark from Tony’s party?”

Steve’s stomach dropped. He knew what was coming; he should have been preparing for it since the party. But instead he’d let himself forget all about Mark. It was easy to think that it was just him and Bucky sometimes and forget the rest of the world existed at all. “Sure,” he said. “Sam’s friend, right?” He was amazed at how steady his voice was as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, still not meeting Steve’s eye and instead playing with the hem of his sweater. “He, ah, he asked me out.”

“On a date?” The words formed automatically while Steve’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his mouth curving up at the corners.

“That’s,” Steve started, and had to stop and lick his lips and gather himself for a moment. “Buck, that’s great.” The words sounded normal, which was something of a miracle because it felt like there was a boulder sitting on his chest.

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “I haven’t been out with anyone in ages. Not since everything with S.H.I.E.L.D. And even then, there wasn’t ever time for much more than…” He trailed off.

“So this is your first real date in a while,” Steve finished for him.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shook his head. “It’s ridiculous; I used to be so good at this. Dating was like my best skill. But…”

“What?” Steve asked, concern at the way Bucky’s face had fallen overpowering his internal meltdown.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess it’s been awhile, and since everything with…” He stopped again and glanced up at Steve before quickly looking away. They really needed a way to talk about the Incident without it getting so awkward. But he nodded, showing he understood what Bucky meant. “Since then, I guess I’ve been trying to figure out who I am again. I’m not the old Bucky. That guy died in the war. HYDRA killed him.”

Steve’s hands curled into fists.

“But, I don’t know who I am now,” he said. “Which doesn’t matter most of the time. It doesn’t matter when it’s, like, just me and you. But, on a date? You’re meant to be fun and interesting. You’re meant to flirt. I haven’t done much of that lately.”

“You seemed to be doing fine at the party,” Steve pointed out, and hoped Bucky didn’t catch the slightly bitter note in his voice as he said it.

Bucky shrugged. “That was just… you know, part of the Old Bucky Act. I don’t want to be that on a real date. I like Mark. He seems sweet and I…” He shook his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry, this is stupid. Just ignore me. It’s dinner and a movie. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Steve said, reaching out to touch Bucky’s arm. “It’s not. This is a big deal. It’s fine to be nervous.” He forced himself to grin. “I’m not exactly an expert on dating, but I hear that being nervous is actually pretty standard.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Alright, grandad,” he said. “I know. I guess I’m just not used to it.”

“I’m sure,” he started, and had to stop as the words he wanted to say tangled themselves in his mouth, clumsy and unwilling to leave. He licked his lips and forced himself to start again. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. He liked you enough to ask you out, right? And it’s only one dinner if it’s… not as good as you hope.” 

Bucky nodded, although he still looked uncertain. 

Steve squeezed Bucky’s arm. “Seriously,” he said, “if he doesn’t like you, it’ll be his loss.”

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, his smile getting more certain. “You’re a real charmer, you know that?” 

The laugh that punched out of his chest was weak, but he hoped Bucky didn’t notice. “I try my best.” 

***

“He’s going on a date.”

“Who?” Sam asked, but given Steve knew that he was only asking to be annoying, he didn’t bother answering, just levelled him with a long look. Sam sighed and shook his head. “Mark finally asked him out, huh?”

“You knew?” It was a pointless question but he couldn’t help the hurt from creeping into his voice. 

“Mark seemed pretty smitten after the party,” Sam said, voice flat. “But, that’s fine right? We talked about this. You said you were fine with it.” 

Steve tried not to glare too obviously. Sam clearly knew that it did bother him so there was no point in even having the conversation again. Nothing had changed and they’d end up repeating themselves. He sighed. “I am,” he said and then had to add so it wasn’t a total lie, “I will be. I just need to get used to the idea.” 

“Right,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Or you do the other thing.” 

“I don’t want to put pressure on him,” Steve said. 

“Look,” Sam said. “I really don’t want to be in the middle of this and you have, like, two other places that are meant to be helping you get your head on straight. But, Steve, Bucky was crazy about you before. He’s the one that reached out after. You really think he feels so differently about you now?” 

Steve wasn’t sure. Of course he wasn’t completely, 100% certain. But at the same time he’d learnt that change was something he wasn’t good with. He’d been fighting to keep everything stable and predictable for months and he couldn’t risk upending everything again. It wasn’t worth the risk. “I can’t, Sam,” he said. “I had my chance. I just need to figure out a way to be happy for him.” 

Sam sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said, spreading his fingers out over the table. “But, I can’t watch you mope around if you refuse to do anything to help yourself. You chicken out on this one, you’re on your own.” 

“Hey,” Steve said, frowning. “Come on, isn’t that part of the best friend contract? You have to listen to me complain about my bad life choices.” 

He watched Sam’s face go through a series of intricate and very distinct expressions. It settled somewhere between fond and fed-up. “You can’t pull the best friend card out for this first time like this, man,” he said. “It’s a low blow.” 

Steve shrugged. “Was that something you thought I might be above?” 

Sam laughed, a genuinely happy sound that Steve didn’t think he’d heard in months. “Well, not any more, that’s for sure.” He slouched back in his seat, watching Steve closely for a few moments, his smile dimming but not going out entirely. “You’re different, you know. Since all this went down.”

Steve’s shoulders tensed and the smile froze on his face, worry pooling in his stomach. “Yeah?” he asked, slowly, not really sure he wanted an answer. 

“It’s not bad,” Sam said, quickly and firmly. “It’s great actually. You’re not unrecognisable or anything. You’re still definitely the same guy that was running himself ragged around Washington, but you’re more. Like, I dunno, it’s like you’re in colour now or something.”

“And it’s a good thing?” He hated how uncertain the question came out, but his chest was tight his palms were suddenly clammy. 

“It’s a great thing,” he said again. “Listen, if you’d told me a few months ago that I’d be sitting here complaining because you wanted to mope about a guy before you went off to an art class?” He shook his head, grinning. “I’m happy for you, that’s all.” 

“Right,” Steve said, unsure how he was even meant to respond to that. He felt warm and pleased even while part of him wanted to curl into a ball until Sam stopped talking. “I sure am glad my pain pleases you.” 

Sam threw his balled-up napkin at him. 

***

Steve went around and around in his head on what to do about the Bucky situation over the following week. That at least was familiar. It seemed Steve had been confounded about how to handle Bucky since the day they met. It would be comfortable if it didn’t also make his heart pound and his fingers itch like he needed something to fight. Mostly he knew there was nothing he could do, that he needed to let him go. They were friends. That needed to be enough for him. Bucky deserved someone better. Someone less messed up. Someone who wasn’t terrified that some small change would completely derail their entire life. 

Besides he was almost entirely sure that Bucky was no longer interested in anything other than friendship with him. He probably wasn’t replaying their one kiss over and over at night. He wasn’t over analysing their time together to try and decide if what they were doing was flirting or just friendly banter. 

The problem was that there was, the strategist in him knew, a chance that he was wrong. Bucky had been the one to make all the moves in their relationship. Bucky had been the one that kissed him. He also knew that there was only one way to truly know for sure. But, the idea of actually asking seemed impossible. What would he say? When would be an even remotely appropriate time? 

He knew that he should be able to plan a simple conversation with a friend. He’d planned entire operations in enemy territory with a lot less information and much higher stakes in less than an hour. True, those plans often ended up with a lot more explosions than he’d anticipated, but they’d pretty much always worked. The issue, he realised as he tossed and turned one night, was that he wasn’t actually sure if wanted to have the conversation. And until he was sure one way or another, he found it impossible to really plan for it. 

Which meant, of course, that it all came tumbling out at the worst possible moment imaginable. Bucky’s date had got closer and closer, looming at Steve, inevitable and unmoveable. He’d felt paralysed by its presence. Bucky hadn’t mentioned it much until a few days before, when he started to fret again. It seemed whenever they met Bucky would bring it up with a little frown of concern. Steve had somehow managed to smile through the conversations and offer what he hoped were comforting words. 

It never truly occurred to him to say anything while Bucky rambled about being unsure about what to wear, wondering where they ought to meet, if seven was too early or too late. But the stone that seemed to be sitting on Steve’s chest got heavier every time Bucky mentioned Mark. It was like he could sense a countdown was happening but he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing before it ran out. 

The one thing he  _ was  _ sure of, was that he was slowly growing to hate the idea of Bucky and Mark. Bucky’s phone would vibrate sometimes during their films and Bucky would smile down at the screen. Steve wanted to ask, but also didn’t actually want to know, if it was Mark making Bucky look like that. It made him ball his hands into fists and curse himself all over again for messing up so badly in the first place. The longer it went on, the closer the date got, the worse he felt but the less likely it seemed that he’d actually be able to get the words out even if he wanted to. 

Bucky came to Steve’s apartment before his date. Steve had found himself inviting him over the day before when Bucky had been fretting about what he ought to wear. For some unfathomable reason he’d offered to check Bucky’s outfit. Because fashion was obviously something Steve knew anything about. But Bucky had beamed at him for offering and it made Steve feel worse than ever that he couldn’t just be happy that Bucky was happy. 

He hadn’t realised until Bucky had arrived at his apartment how stupid an idea it really was. Bucky looked incredible. He was dressed similarly to when they’d gone to Tony’s, only his jeans were a little tighter, his shirt a little more fitted. He’d shaved and Steve’s hands itched to reach out and run a finger down the freshly exposed skin of his throat. 

It was then, as Bucky shuffled, slightly pink in the cheeks into his apartment that Steve realised that he couldn’t not say anything. What had he been thinking? There was no way he could let Bucky go on a date with someone else and not say anything. 

“Do I look okay?” Bucky asked and then waved him off before Steve even opened his mouth. Which was probably for the best because the words were trapped in his throat anyway. “Don’t answer, I’m not changing again. You got a beer?” 

“In the fridge,” Steve managed, his voice slightly weak. “You sure you’re okay?” 

Bucky nodded even as he opened a bottle and chugged half of it in one go. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m probably overthinking this.”

Steve nodded. Bucky and him both. “I’m sure you’ll have fun,” he offered when Bucky didn’t add anything further. The words came out automatically, his mind was already racing trying to come up with the right words. Some way to explain how much Bucky meant to him. How Steve cared for him. How much he  _ wanted _ . Not just for himself, but how he wanted to be the one to make Bucky smile. How he wanted Bucky to be getting dressed for dates with him. There was simply too much he needed to say and now no time to really say any of it. 

Bucky nodded, although he looked a little pale. He paced the apartment for a moment before sitting down on Steve’s sofa. Steve watched him for a moment before slowly walking over and sitting down next to him. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning in so Bucky had to look at him. The urge to comfort took over again and Steve found those sorts of words came out much easier. “It really will be fine, Buck, and you look great. Mark’s gonna be bowled over.” 

A smile curved the edges of Bucky’s mouth and Steve’s heart swelled at the sight, and the knowledge that he’d done that. “Yeah?” 

Steve nodded and laid a hand gently on Bucky’s arm. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s not an idiot, Buck, you’re going to have a great date.” 

Bucky looked at Steve for a long moment, like he was trying to figure something out. Then he huffed out a laugh, something small and a little self-deprecating. “Thanks, pal,” he said, voice low. “I appreciate you talking me off the cliff here, really.” 

“Any time,” Steve said, his voice pitched low to match Bucky’s. “It’s really a pleasure.” 

There was another moment, where Steve didn’t let himself stroke Bucky’s arm like he wanted to. Then Bucky blinked, seeming to come out of a trace. 

“Okay, well, I better get out of here before I talk myself out of this entire thing,” Bucky said, smoothing his hands down his thighs as he stood.

Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, swallowing thickly. “You should,” he said before he even realised he was going to speak. He froze the moment the words were out, his heart starting to pound in his chest. 

Bucky stopped, a frown creasing his brow. “What?”

“You should talk yourself out of it,” Steve said, his voice only shaking very slightly. “You shouldn’t go.” He couldn’t quite believe that he was saying the words, but once he’d started he couldn’t actually seem to stop them. “You should… Bucky, I-” His heart was hammering so hard in his chest it was almost painful. He looked up to find Bucky had frozen in place and he was staring at Steve. 

“Don’t,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He looked scared, eyes wide and almost pleading. “Steve, please, don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he said. And he really did. It was selfish, especially when Bucky was already giving him so much, it wasn’t fair to ask for anything else. But, the words he’d been trying to desperately to think of for weeks now seemed desperate to leave his chest. “Bucky, I know it’s not. But I can’t…” He watched as Bucky took a step back, even as his shoulders swayed forward, like his body was arguing with itself about whether it wanted to get closer or flee. Steve watched as Bucky licked his lips, and his chest ached with want. All the desire he’d kept at bay since the moment he’d met him all seemed to be bubbling up once, threating to overwhelm him. “God, I want to kiss you so much,” he whispered, his hands flexing at his sides like they might dart out to touch Bucky at any moment. It wasn’t anywhere near the suave speech he’d been hoping to come up with, but it was certainly accurate. 

Bucky closed his eyes, like the words pained him. “You’re a real asshole,” he said after a long moment, his eyes still closed. “You know that, right?”

An unexpected bubble of laughter punched out of his chest. “Yeah,” he said. He licked his lips, wanting to at least to try and explain. “Bucky, I-”

“Fuck, you’re a piece of work,” Bucky muttered, anger clear in every word.

Steve’s heart was pounding so hard that his blood was rushing in his ears and he could feel heat prickling at his neck. He wanted to say something, perhaps make a defence or offer an explanation. But, he never got a chance, because suddenly there were lips crashing against his own. Bucky’s hand fisted tightly in the front of his t-shirt to haul him forward. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a colliding of bodies. Steve didn’t even have time to figure out what he ought to do with his hands before Bucky was pulling back.

He’s eyes were wide, almost wild looking, his face flushed. Steve had a full body flush of excitement at how beautiful he looked. Then he realised that Bucky was speaking and blinked owlishly at him, trying to understand the words.

“Fuck,” Bucky huffed, running his hand through his hair, making it fall messily about his face. Steve watched, transfixed as the strands settled haphazardly across his brow. “Fuck.”

He licked his lips, tried to form words, but before he could begin to understand what had just happened, the other man was speaking again.

“I have to go,” Bucky huffed, shaking his head. “He’s going to be waiting for me-”

“Wait,” Steve said, horror rising in his chest, forcing the word out. “Bucky, I-”

Bucky shook his head, pursing his lips into a thin line of obvious displeasure. “I can’t, Steve,” he said. “I need some time to think.”

“And being on a date is going to give you that?” His tone was too far into pleading to make it sound like an insult, but Bucky glared at him anyway.

“And who’s fault is the timing here, again?” he snapped.

Steve flinched and held up his hands in surrender. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, my timing is terrible. But, I couldn’t let you go without at least knowing that… Bucky, I know that this isn’t ideal, and that any feelings you had for me before might be…” He shook his head. “I don’t expect anything from you. If you don’t want us to be anything but friends, I really will respect that. I’m not going to try and mess up any more of your dates or anything, nothing has to change, but I just wanted you to know how I felt. No more secrets, right?” He sighed, feeling helpless and a little desperate. But, he did owe Bucky the whole truth now he’d started. It wasn’t fair to not make his feelings clear. He took a breath and forced himself to continue. “I have feelings for you and I would want us to be… well, anything you want, for however long you want it.”

Bucky was watching him with open shock when he finally managed to stop his rambling. There was a long silence where Steve forced himself not to fidget and not to break eye contact. He could feel words piling up behind his lips, explanations and clarifications. He forced himself not to say anything more.

“Fuck,” Bucky said. “And you couldn’t have come to this conclusion a month ago? Six months ago?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth curved up into something that was nearly a smile. “These aren’t new feelings, Buck,” he said. “But I didn’t think it was the right time to tell you. I wanted to wait until… Well, I’m suddenly realising that there is no perfect moment to drop this on you, but my hand was kinda forced.”

Bucky arched one perfect eyebrow at him. “You really are a piece of work.”

“I know.”

He let out a long breath, running his hand through his hair again. “I really have to go,” he said again. “This isn’t fair on-”

“Okay,” Steve said, “I’m not trying to stop you going. Like I said, I just wanted you to know all the options before you left. There’s no need to make a decision now. Or, well, I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

“Jesus, Steve,” he said. “You don’t have to be so fucking nice about this, okay? We’re going to talk. Just, not now.”

Steve forced himself to nod and take a step back from Bucky, even though his entire body rebelled at the idea. “Of course.” He cleared his throat, hoping to gather himself. “I’ll see you later.”

Bucky stared at him again, eyes wild before shook his head. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

Steve watched him walk out the door, holding himself still, locking every muscle in place until it swung closed behind him. Then he let out a long breath, his head hanging down. It probably wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done. Probably not even the worst that week, but guilt trickled through him, hot and shaming anyway. He hadn’t meant to ruin Bucky’s first date in years. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

On the one hand, he knew he was right; telling Bucky then was the best of a number of terrible options available. Besides which, however he’d chosen to tell him, there was no scenario that guaranteed a better outcome than the one that had just transpired. Bucky hadn’t punched him. Hadn’t said he never wanted to see him again. He hadn’t even said there was no hope. Although he supposed all those options were still on the table. But he had kissed Steve. That could mean… something. It might just be lingering feelings from before he’d messed up. But, maybe…

He shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts loose. There was no point in dwelling on what might happen. Bucky had chosen to still go on his date. He was with another man. Someone who hadn’t hurt him, had only ever been charming and kind. There was every chance that his decision would be that he wanted Steve as nothing more than a friend. Perhaps not even that. He needed to be prepared for that.

He should probably have made an appointment with his new therapist before going ahead and upending his relationship with Bucky. Not that he’d been planning it. That was probably the issue. Better preparation might have made the whole thing smoother. He could have tried wooing him. Not that he was really sure how to do that. Not in this century. Not with a man. Google would surely have told him how, though. Or Sam if it came to it. 

But it was too late now. That was forever going to be how Steve had told Bucky he had feelings for him. 

He shook his head again. It was probably the most fitting way for him to have told him, when taking into consideration the rest of their relationship. Which wasn’t to say that it wasn’t also objectively terrible. Bucky deserved so much better than a blurted and ill-thought through confession of feelings. He deserved to have had a nice date with someone who cared for him. 

Dimly, Steve was aware that he was spiralling. He needed to stop. Needed to get himself off of this thought track. He should call someone. Sam, maybe. Hell, even Tony would be better than standing in his living room beating himself up over something that he no longer had any power over.

He allowed himself one more moment of helpless terror that he’d never see Bucky again before he turned to his bedroom where his phone was still next to his bed. But, he’d got no further than that before his door banged open again. He hadn’t locked it behind Bucky, he realised, his heart already in his throat.

He spun around, instantly on high alert, every muscle in his body coiled for attack. It took him a long moment to realise through his surprise that it was Bucky. He froze, shock stilling him completely.

“You’re a real asshole, you know?” Bucky said, before Steve had a chance to even open his mouth. “No,” he said, jabbing his finger at Steve, “you shut the hell up and listen to me.” Steve closed his mouth again. “You know, I’ve had a pretty eventful… decade. I joined the army, got captured, tortured, lost an arm, recruited by S.H.I.E.LD., found out they were secret Nazis, quit being a hired assassin and tried to start my life all over again.” He shook his head. “You think that would be enough, wouldn’t you? But then Captain America moves into my fucking apartment. Just…” He gestured, looking somewhere between furious and mystified. “Moves in. But then,” he shakes his head, “then, he turns out to be… Turns out he’s not this mythical being of virtue and plucky American spirit. He turns out to be  _ good  _ and  _ kind  _ and in  _ pain _ .” Steve’s chest clenched painfully at the look on Bucky’s face, for a moment he looked almost heartbroken. “So I try and be his friend.” He looked at Steve for a moment before flicking his eyes away and continuing to pace. “Of course, because I’m a fucking dumbass I immediately catch feelings for him. But, not only that, because and I repeat,  _ I’m a moron _ , I start to think maybe I’m not the only one feeling something. I work myself up to it, of course, because you don’t just randomly kiss a national icon. And… well, we know what happened with that. It all blows up in my face, which, yeah, I should have seen coming really.”

“Bucky-” Steve said, not sure where any of this was going, but his heart was starting to hammer in his chest. He could see how agitated the other man was and he just wanted to calm him down.

Bucky held up a hand and Steve’s mouth shut again. “So, whatever, I was a fucking moron. I try and move on. Get some more therapy. Take up gardening. But then Steve Rogers asks for us to be friends.” He paused and looked at Steve, his face unreadable. “And because I’m – as previously stated –  _ a fucking moron _ , I think, ‘Sure why not? Can’t go worse than last time, right?’ So we hang out, we garden, we watch films. I try and put all those feelings from before away. Not just the hurt, but you know…” He stopped his pacing, but looked at the floor, rather than at Steve. “I’m a moron, but I’m not an idiot, you know? I can see myself. Where I’m at in my life. I know full well that being in love with a superhero is about as unattainable as you can get. So I put it all away. I work _ so fucking hard _ to just… not feel like that. Then, finally, I meet a guy. He’s cute. Really cute. He’s funny. Fuck, I think he actually really likes me. And so, I arrange a date. And then, Steve  _ fucking  _ Rogers tells me not to go, that he has feelings for me. Right as I’m walking out of the door to said date.” Bucky looked up at him, making eye contact for the first time since he re-entered the apartment, he was still, really looking at Steve. “So tell me, pal, what am I meant to do with that? You’re meant to be my friend, right? What would you say I should do with all of that?”

The silence that followed was almost defining. Steve opened his mouth and closed it again. Bucky didn’t move, just continued to look at Steve. He didn’t seem angry, he realised. He looked… confused. Perhaps verging on desperate. And Steve wanted to help so keenly that he hurt with it. But, there was just so much in Bucky’s speech that he didn’t have any idea where to start. He certainly didn’t come out it looking good, that was for sure. Bucky had been through so much and Steve just seemed to be determined to put him through more. But, some part of his head was screaming, over and over and over,  _ he said love, he said love!  _ It was hard to focus on what the appropriate response was.

“Bucky, I never meant to mess anything up for you,” he said. “I realise that I’ve done some pretty terrible things and I never expected you to-”

“That’s the worst fucking thing,” Bucky interrupted. “You didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t have. You’re so good, Steve. Even when you’re messing up, it’s all so fucking understandable and noble and I hate it. I look at you and you’re so… I can’t imagine what you’d ever see in me. And then you said all that and then you kissed me back and then you let me go on my fucking date. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Steve blinked at him. He was so wrong that he didn’t know where to even start. “What do you want to do, Buck?” he asked, because, in the end, that was the only thing that really mattered. “You deserve whatever’s going to make you happy. That’s all I want. If that’s me I’ll work real hard to deserve it and to make you happy. If it’s not, then, well, I’ll do the same, actually but-”

“Oh, just shut up,” Bucky breathed, before stepping right into Steve’s space and pulling him into another kiss.

Steve shut his mouth and allowed his body to melt against the other man’s instead. It was like every point of contact was waking his body up, making it tingle with sensation. His mind allowed him almost a full five seconds before he pulled back and said, “But your date, you said-”

“I fucking called him to say that something had come up and I was really sorry but I couldn’t make it,” Bucky said slowly through gritted teeth. “He clearly knew I was lying and I’ll never hear from him again, and I’m a terrible person, but I couldn’t fucking…” He shook his head. “Just kiss me. Please.” 

His body leaned forward just as his mind screeched at him to really be sure. He couldn’t have this and then have it taken away from him again because Bucky wasn’t really sure. “Buck,” he breathed, their mouths so close to touching that it was making every part of Steve ache with want, “are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this because I’ve been such a mess lately. You don’t owe me anything.”

Bucky’s mouth curved up, his eyes darting down to Steve’s mouth and back up again. “You think you’re somehow manipulating me into this?” he asked. Then shook his head. “Of course you do. Steve, I came to your apartment before I went on the fucking date, you think I did that because I didn’t want you to maye talk me out of it?”

“You wanted me to stop you?” he asked. 

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Bucky said. “Which I’m still waiting for by the way, so if you could just-”

Steve didn’t wait for him to finish. He closed the gap and kissed him. It wasn’t harsh or desperate or rushed like their other kisses. It was gentle, he allowed himself to take his time, really feel it. Bucky’s lips were soft and pliant under his own, his hands were wrapped around Steve’s biceps and they tightened when Steve opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

His arms tightened of their own accord around Bucky, tugging him closer so he could feel him pressed against Steve along every part of his body. It still wasn’t somehow enough. His hands were restless, tugging at Bucky’s clothes, trying to pull him closer while also trying in vain to find some skin. 

“God,” he breathed, pulling back so he could kiss a path down Bucky’s neck. “This fucking outfit,” he muttered, finally managing to ruck up Bucky’s shirt and slide a hand under it. “You look so good, I couldn’t stand it.”

Bucky shivered under his hands, his grip tightening on Steve’s arms before they ran up the length of them to rest on his shoulders before trailing back down. “Fuck, Steve,” he muttered, arching his neck to give him better access. 

There were too many clothes and Bucky was far too vertical for what Steve really wanted. “Can I take you to my bedroom?” he whispered against the skin of Bucky’s neck. 

“Oh my God,” Bucky sighed. “Yes, fuck, Steve. Whatever you want. Yes.” 

Steve grinned, nipping at Bucky’s neck before sliding his hand down his back to ass. He tugged him up, lifting him easily and Bucky made a sound in the back of his throat and wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist that went straight to his cock. They tumbled through the door and onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Steve hardly paused before he was on top of Bucky, kissing at his neck and tugging at his shirt. 

“If you don’t get this thing off soon I’m going to rip it in half,” he managed, his hands trembling with anticipation. 

Bucky laughed under him. “I’m going to die,” he muttered, “this is finally how I’m going to die.” But he didn’t sound worried and his hands were working open his buttons so fast that they were nearly a blur, so Steve ignored him. 

Instead he took the momentary distraction to pull off his own t-shirt and start to unbuckle his belt. But the moment Bucky’s arms were out of his shirt he was distracted and had to duck back down to kiss him. The feeling was so much more now they were skin to skin that he gasped into the kiss, his hips stuttering down seemingly of their own accord. Bucky moaned low in his throat and arched up under him. 

He could stay like this, Steve knew he’d be happy to continue like this, rubbing against each other and kissing. But, the blood under his skin was thrumming with desire. He wanted to show Bucky how much he wanted him. He pushed himself down the bed kissing a trail over Bucky’s torso as he went. He made quick work of the buttons on his jeans and was pulling them down before he realised that Bucky was still in his boots. Everything got snagged, and while Steve could have probably torn the thing off, he couldn’t have done so without hurting Bucky. He didn’t realise it was him that had made the frustrated growl until Bucky started to laugh softly under him. He sounded shaky and pleased, so Steve suspected it wasn’t meant with anything but affection. 

“You need some help?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Steve. 

“I think I can handle the situation without backup,” he said, trying to sound haughty but the desire in his voice made it come out breathless. He reached out to push Bucky back down onto the bed and he went easily, a breathy chuckle escaping him as he went. 

Steve took a steadying breath and set to work pulling off his boots and socks. He looked triumphantly up at Bucky before reaching up and yanking down his jeans and underwear in one go and throwing them across the room. 

Bucky was grinning madly up at him by the time Steve had crawled up his body to kiss him again. “Remind me not to wear my best clothes if we’re going to be doing this again.” 

The ‘if’ was a little ominous but Steve chose to plough right through it. “I’d be happier if you never wore clothes again, to be honest,” he said, running a hand along and up Bucky’s side. “Look at you.” 

Bucky squirmed a little under him. “You don’t got to sweet talk me, Steve,” he muttered, turning his head so Steve couldn’t look in his eyes. “You already got me in bed.” 

Steve shook his head. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “You got any idea how often I wanted to say something like that to you and couldn’t? I’m never shutting up about this ever again.” But, it had been far too long since they’d kissed, so instead he proved himself wrong immediately by kissing Bucky long and slow. 

Things faded to feeling. The slow, slow build of tension. Steve wasn’t aware of anything but Bucky’s skin under his hands and mouth. Of the soft sounds Bucky was making, of the way he melted under Steve, how they fitted together like they’d be designed perfectly. It didn’t surprise him. Everything with Bucky was easy when they let it be. They were in sync with each other so easily that the pleasure seemed to wash over them in waves. Building and building until they were gasping into each other’s skin. 

Steve managed to breath out his feelings between snatched kisses. Bucky laughed and cursed and sighed under him. It was perfect. 

It might have been hours or days later that Steve drifted pleasantly back to himself. He was warm and wrung out in the best way. He couldn’t seem to make him arms move from where they were holding Bucky close to him, but given the other man was making no effort to pull away, he hoped that was okay. 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky said, dimly from where his face was still pressed into Steve’s chest. “That was…” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, arms tightening just in case Bucky was about to try and make a dash for it. 

“I think I died,” he said after a moment. “Have I died?” 

A laugh bubbled up, content and warm through his chest. His face ached from smiling. Bucky’s hand shoved half-heartedly at his side. 

“It’s not nice to laugh after you possibly killed me the first time we ever got to have sex,” he said. 

“The feeling’s mutual, Buck,” he said, laughter rich in his voice. He ran a finger up Bucky’s flesh arm, delighting in the way goosebumps rose in its wake.

“Hmm,” Bucky mumbled. He did shift then, pulling himself slightly up the bed but only so he could drape himself more fully over Steve. 

Steve’s smile grew impossibly bigger. “Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment, suddenly remembering that Bucky had been on his way to dinner before he’d been interrupted. “Can I get you anything?” 

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes slitted and face soft with apparent sleepiness. Steve wondered if it was possible for his heart to actually burst with love. “You going for a Gold in the new boyfriend Olympics or something?” he asked, and then seemed to freeze, looking embarrassed and worried all at once. 

“You think I’m in with a shot?” Steve asked, leaning down to kiss away the concern in his face. How Bucky could be worried that Steve was about to freak out at the mention of their relationship status, he wasn’t sure. Not after everything. But he was more than happy to set the record straight. As often as Bucky needed. “I’m pretty dedicated if I set my mind to something, so if you think there’s a chance, I can work real hard on it.” 

Bucky’s face smoothed out into obvious pleasure before he rolled his eyes fondly and flopped back down to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said. “You think you can get pizza and then do that thing with your tongue again before it gets here? Because, if so, you’re probably in with a good chance of at least making the qualifiers.” 

“You know,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss his temple, “I think I can.” 

Bucky smiled and turned his head to capture Steve’s mouth in a kiss.

“Just,” he said, kissing a path over Bucky’s face and down his neck, “give me a minute. I just need to…” 

It was over an hour before Steve managed to drag himself out of his bed. Bucky didn’t seem to mind. 

**The End**


End file.
